The body of a mother, the mind of a failure

So many posts in one day, but I am tired of holding back. When I feel it, I will write it.

I still have this constant physical reminder that I should be a mother right now. It is emotionally tormenting to be producing milk with no babies to feed. It hurts me physically and mentally. The c-section has pretty much healed, but my stomach is so bruised I still can’t touch it.

I am just ready for a little bit of relief. I am so tired of being responsible and doing the right thing. It got me nowhere. Seriously thinking about stalking the local high schools for pregnant teens that don’t want their baby! Maybe I can find a girl pregnant with twins that is either red headed or their “Baby-daddy” is a ginger.

I am ready to be irresponsible with my life, money etc. It seems like those who aren’t, are those who are rewarded. I put my faith in God and even after all this, I can’t pull my faith, but I want to. All I want for Christmas is to be in Heaven with them.I don’t want to be here anymore, there is nothing left for me here.


3 thoughts on “The body of a mother, the mind of a failure

  1. Krystal – I’ve read all your posts tonight and I feel a kinship with you as I’ve never felt before. You are doing an amazing thing writing out and sharing what you went through. I’ve done the same in different formats over the years and always wished I had put it into a blog to help others as well.

    There’s many things that I will share and bare to you that no one in my family really knows (not even James). I feel sharing is half the battle to finding peace in a situation that is chaotic and where no one knows how or what you feel…especially on the inside and that we think we are crazy for what and how we feel.

    Back when we first started our adoption journey we were match almost right off the bat. A few weeks after our match our Birthmother miscarried. The situation hurt but in the back of my mind I treated it as if I was any other parent/mother where most first pregnancies end in miscarriages. So we forged on and about 6mths later (Martin Luther King Jr weekend) we were matched with a a young mother of 6 kids who was looking to place her child up for adoption. She was around 16wks pregnant and we were with her every step of the way. We paid for her living expenses, clothing allowance, cell phone, cab/bus fare…you name we paid it. And we did so the entire remaining length of her pregnancy.

    Around the 20 week mark we received news we were going to have a girl and were mailed the ultrasound pictures etc. That basically sealed the deal in our eyes…this was it…we were officially going to be parents. Over the next few months we prepared for our daughter. We prepped and decorated the nursery. We bought summer clothes since she was due in June. We bought all the baby equipment and toys…everything an expecting couple would do. But as the pregnancy was coming to an end our Birthmother became more and more removed. And at the same time wanted more and more money. In the pit of my stomach I knew things were not looking good. But I continued on and put the everlasting smile on my face. A week before her due date she tried reaching out needing more money to help with rent and her phone. At this point our social worker said lets make her wait until after the baby is born and everything is signed and we’ll make a final lump sum payment to help her out and get her back on her feet. We thought this to be a good idea too and with the feelings we were having it was more than justified. The last weekend before her due date we had heard nothing more from her. She wasn’t returning any phone calls…nothing. I remember we had a gathering at a friends house in Columbus and as much as I wanted to put that everlasting smile on…I couldn’t. I broke down. I knew the end was in sight and it wasn’t the ending I had hoped and prayed for.

    The following week our social worker tried and tried to reach out to her and then her phone was “disconnected”. Next she called nearby hospitals to make sure something hadn’t gone wrong with her health. Still nothing…our social worker went by her apartment and there was nothing there. She was gone…our hopes were gone…our dreams were gone…our baby was gone. Our baby Cecelia was no longer going to be part of our family.

    Even though you run the risk of this in the adoption world…nothing prepares you for it. I felt as though my child died on me and that I failed the situation. I was broken…broken to the bottom of my core. I too got sick of everyone telling me it was going to be all right and that things happen for a reason. The prayers and thoughts didn’t mean shit to me…I wanted my child. There were also so many people and co-workers that just didn’t know what to say to me and I sometimes think that was the worst. Some people just made light of the situation because it was an adoption and not a “real” definite child of “ours”. Never in my life have I wanted to beat the living shit of someone.

    I remembered just pulling away and wanting to be on my own and let my own self deal with the reality. I pulled away from Kevin and just about everyone around me. “I” needed to grieve…”I” needed my time to grasp the situation and to try and make sense of it all.

    The day everything was confirmed I went upstairs and packed everything we had bought for Cecilia into a cardboard box and set it in the crib. I broke down for the longest time in her room. Then I got up and closed the door. I couldn’t bring myself to go back in that room. There was supposed to be a baby in there and there wasn’t.

    A few weeks went by and everyone was pressuring me to takes things back…return them…get your money back…blah, blah, blah. But returning things meant “the end” the final, final, final goodbye and dealing with it. Many friends offered to do these errands for me…and Kevin even offered to do it or do it as a couple. But in the end…”I” had to do it. “I” wanted to do it…”I” had to let go. I have to say it was one of the hardest things I had to do. I cried the entire way to the mall and I sat in the car for what seemed like an hour before I could gather up the strength to take that first step out my car door. I was brave…I held it together…I walked confidently into Carter’s and as I stood in line waiting to be waited on, I thought to myself I can do this I am strong. When it was my turn I told the lady at the register I had a return (mind you this was a HUGE box of clothes with probably over 50 outfits in it). And as always with any return the inevitable questions is asked, “And why are you returning these items today sir?”. And with that I fucking lost it right there in the middle of Carters. The cashier was beside herself not knowing what to do. And without me telling the entire tale of the adoption…I simply said we lost our baby. Almost every mom around me was in tears or just staring at me heartbroken. I wanted to puke…I wanted to run…I wanted to be anywhere but there. And to make matters worse the cashier said….”Your poor wife how is she holding up? God bless her soul”. And all I could do was nod and share the grief of the situation but on the inside I was screaming at her I AM THE WIFE AND I LOST OUR BABY!!!!! AND IT FUCKING HURTS LIKE HELL!!! A PIECE OF ME IS GONE EVEN IF SHE WASN’T OF MY BLOOD”. Finally after 30 minutes and many tears from many people in the store I walked out and made it back to my car.

    In the days to come I just didn’t know what to do with myself. I begged, pleaded and cursed God as to why he did this to me/us. What had I done wrong? Could nothing ever go right in my life. I mean c’mon…I grew up in an abusive household…I was tortured throughout my entire school career…I had been raped and survived…I had even suffered through a physically and mentally abusive relationship. When was it going to end??? How much more could I take before it was enough. Did I deserve to be happy? Did I deserve to be a father, parent, dada, momdad? Or was I always destined to be the failure and something that no luck but bad luck would stick to?

    And as I came to terms with things and gained control back into my life something clicked in me. Something that showed me I was ok with who I was and what I was feeling. I had lived through all of this to become a parent who will endure and show the test of time the love and support for my own child when it comes to pass. And the Friday I came to this realization is when we got the call about Natalie. It was a rocky weekend full of ups and downs and her mom going back and forth with placing her for adoption. It was like reliving everyone all over again. But in the end her mother made the best choice for her and we left that Tuesday to pick up our daughter. Never will I forget the moment she was placed in my arms and the tears that came down my face. It melted all the bad away. While I’ll never forget anything that has happened in my life…I’ll remember the strength it gave me to move on and be the parent that Natalie needed. The role model she’ll need as she gets older. The advocate who’ll stand up for any inequality that she’s faced with in life.

    It’s through these experiences in life that makes us who we are and will one day be a part of the strength that helps our children grow into the people they will become.

    I know I’m writing a book here and I’ll wrap it up. But know what you are feeling and what you are writing is “ok”. It is how you will heal from this and is how you’ll become the parent you are meant to be.

    I love you!


  2. I have those same thoughts on a daily basis.. I lost my twins April 10th 2014 these are my first kids and my body failed them I feel as if three only thing that would take this pain away its being with my sweet angels

    • Just remember your sweet twins wouldn’t want that. As much as you want to be with them, they want you to live on and honor their memory. Be able to speak out for them and remind the world they were here. Hugs.

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