I have often felt that this experience was a punishment. For what, I am not entirely sure. The feeling that I deserved to lose my daughter was incredibly strong and it was very difficult to shake.
Perhaps because phrases like these tend to echo around my brain.
You reap what you sow.
What goes around, comes around.
You get what you pay for.
Sow the wind. Reap the whirlwind.
I don't really believe in signs, or punishments, or miracles, or enormous invisible bean counters who sit up in the sky keeping a tally of every mistake we ever make in our lives so that they can be held against us at a later date. That just seems nonsensical to me, if not a little cruel.
But it is a tempting idea. When something bad happens, we could all think to ourselves, well they must have done something to deserve it. It won't happen to me because I will never do anything so appalling as what Ms X must have done to deserve this event.
I wonder if anyone thinks that about me. I wonder if they all think I must have been necking bottles of gin on the sly.
I know that my daughter died because she was born extremely prematurely, probably as the result of an infection. She was too small and too sick to survive. The medical professionals managed to keep her alive for a short period but it was a struggle. For her and for them. I saw the doctors battling for her. I saw her trying desperately to live. Believe me, neither party gave up without a fight.
But what I know and what I feel are two completely different things and becoming increasingly so. What I feel at four in the morning when the house is quiet and I am suddenly jolted into wakefulness is that it was all my fault. Somehow. Maybe I want to have someone to blame and I can't identify anyone else so I go for the only option left open to me. Myself.
Maybe it happened because I would have been an awful mother. Because I couldn't handle looking after twins. Because I was so damned smug about being pregnant. Because I wasn't happy enough before this happened. Because I carried on working such long hours.
Because I was so very certain that it was meant to be.
I can't help the feeling that life, or God, or whatever, turned around to me and said that phrase beloved of parents around the world, "I'll give you something to cry about".
Oh, how I hate this feeling. It creeps up on me, too, despite my best defenses. Maybe it's pure animal instinct, a maternal brain responding to the unthinkable. We were supposed to keep them safe; yet despite all our love and desire, inexplicably, they died. On a purely emotional level, it will always be inexplicable; and all the sound, scientific explanations in the world won't change that.
ReplyDeleteOne thing's for sure, though. It's not your fault.
But it is a tempting idea. When something bad happens, we could all think to ourselves, well they must have done something to deserve it. It won't happen to me because I will never do anything so appalling as what Ms X must have done to deserve this event.
ReplyDeleteI can't help the feeling that life, or God, or whatever, turned around to me and said that phrase beloved of parents around the world, "I'll give you something to cry about".
*****
So exactly right - so right - so the same as what I've experienced - even though our sames are so different.
Love you, Catherine.
C