After birthing a baby, rest is vital. Especially when there's a human who is surviving off you and your body. Rest is crucial and the te flies because newborns need a lot of care and attention. However, after a stillborn baby, that rest is silent and empty. There is nothing occupying my mind or needing me, except my own body. A body that became a graveyard for my son. A body that betrayed the life of my son. A body that did the best it could to comfort my son, and failed. My body and womb are aching for my son. My womb cries to feel him, me breast ache to feed him and my arms are empty and void searching for him. I'm finding it extremely difficult to rest and heal and still experience postpartum pains, without the presence of my son. I think of the 4 to 6 weeks of required healing like a jail sentence even though I know I need this time, as does my body and mental health. 4 to 6 weeks is just time, which I've always said is a construct. 4 to 6 weeks is more like moments strung together to create a memory, and I pray I can create a stable, and whole memory for the sake of my son.
Currently I've given in to Netflix as a distraction. My mind begins to wander otherwise and leads me down the path of shame, guilt, anger and sorrow. I don't want my son's memory to be filled with anything other than love, compassion, understanding and forgiveness, because he deserves that much. I'm learning to navigate an entirely new way of existing, and an entirely new "me". Because who I was died right along with him, and a new version of "me" was birthed. Now I have to get to know her, and watch her grow into her new life. Will the sadness ever leave her? Will she ever have joy? Will she ever smile again? I don't have these answers and I'm determined not to judge her as she explores this new journey. All I can do is love her, and maybe for the next 4 to 6 weeks, loving her will lead her back to her smile.
Long Live King Solomon 💙👼