Friday, November 26, 2010

Motherhood FAIL

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?


  1. Ugh, this entire post is me and my fears and that stupid voice in the back of my head.

    While I have never struggled with my health like you have, I was a real late bloomer, and my mom ragged on me constantly about things like starting my period at 14 or never sprouting ginormous (or much of any) boobs. I was a terrible tomboy and it was like I could never actually believe that my body or any part of me could get it in gear to be "woman" enough to succeed at making a baby.

    I remember being relieved at the 20 week scan that my baby had all of its requisite limbs and didn't look like some misshapen blob of failure, because that's what the little voice in my head was afraid of.

    Just turns out that my baby had his internal organs screwed up. Then I had a miscarriage. Then I spent a year TTC and failing. I haven't ovulated since July, despite taking Clomid.

    I feel like that little deep fear is sort of a little devil on my shoulder holding a megaphone and pointing at charts that list all my colossal failures, and how could I possibly think this would ever work.

    Ugh. Sorry for dumping.

  2. I feel like all the bad things I ever did in my life killed my baby. I feel like I wasn't ready to be a mom, financially or otherwise, and that's why she died. I feel like I'm being punished. We have tried 5 cycles now and nothing, which only confirms it more.

  3. Oh Emily (and Melissa and Anne), this was me on baby died and it's my fault and even if the doctors say it wasn't my fault, I can then blame my body/cervix or even then blame what you stated in the post, that somehow I was destined to be an ineffective mom and now I have exhibit A. Uggh...the guilt! Even when my rational self knows, knows! that I couldn't have done anything better or different, my crazies tell me that I did it...exhibit A.

    Come back rational self, come back!

  4. I can so relate to this post - I have spent countless hours consumed by thoughts like these.

    I had my first miscarriage, which was so devastating to me - but then you tell yourself that miscarriages happen all the time, and the overwhelming odds are that the next pregnancy will be successful.

    So when the second pregnancy failed, thoughts about "motherhood fail" crept in, and have pretty much stayed with me ever since. Taking over a year to become pregnant a third time didn't help matters.

    But reaching the milestone of 3 miscarriages in a row was truly DEVASTATING. Now I was one of the statistics... and the numbers were not good.

    I know that logically, you "know" that losing Aidan was not your fault. But I also know that you still feel responsible. I know this, because I feel responsible for my miscarriages - even though, logically, I am aware I wasn't at fault.

    I wish there was something I could say to make it all better.

    ((Big Hugs))