Sometimes I find one of the worst things about being babylost, is how it preys on your deepest darkest fears about yourself.
Take for example the pregnant woman who would never admit it out loud, but who is secretly afraid she is going to be a terrible mother.
Maybe she's never been around children before: "I don't know what to do with a baby! How do you change a diaper? I'm not going to be any good at this!"
Maybe she had a difficult childhood and is afraid to repeat it with her own child: "Can I really be a good mother to a child without royally screwing it up?"
Maybe she's afraid to have the responsibility of another human being completely dependant on her: "What if something happens and I don't know what to do? What if the baby gets sick and I don't realize it?"
For whatever reason, she's pregnant and nervous about caring for the baby...
And then the baby dies.
Despite all the reassurances in the world from husbands, family, doctors, and friends that "it's not your fault" and "you didn't do anything wrong"...this woman can't help but feel her worst, deepest, darkest fears are confirmed. Something happened. The baby died. She didn't know what to do. In her mind, the baby has now been entered into evidence as "Exhibit A".
My epic fail is not those above. I had no reservations about becoming a mom. I knew both my husband and I could handle it. We are responsible people. We have good jobs. We had good childhoods. There are no skeletons in my closet ready to pop out and hit me up with the guilt of not being a good mom. I have every faith in myself that way.
No, my epic fail is of a different nature. My epic fail concerns my body, probably not a surprise if you've been keeping up with my body thoughts posts.
The whispers from the closets keep saying to me:
"See Emily...why did you think your body could handle a pregnancy? Your body is not like other women's bodies. Your body is weaker. There are things wrong with you. Your medical file is not pristine. Your health is not perfect. You are abnormal and now your imperfect body has killed Aidan".
Those goblins have also now started in on the fact that we are still, after months of perfectly timed intercourse, not pregnant.
"See Emily, there must be something wrong with you. Something not even the doctors can figure out. You are not like the other couples you know. You don't get pregnant easily. There is something wrong with you".
All the complications that led up to Aidan's death have become my "Exhibits". They have been entered into evidence and I have been convicted.
Of what I'm not sure.
I just wish I'd get a chance to appeal.
What fears does your dead baby prey upon?