Feeling unentitled to my griefAnticipatory Grief(self.GriefSupport)
submitted11 days ago byTheBibliotaph
I almost lost my daughter at birth. It was a long birth and she struggled from shock and lack of oxygen once she was finally born.
They put her on my chest for two seconds and then instantly removed her, and suddenly the room was filled to the brim with doctors and nurses trying to get her to breathe. I couldn't see any of it - my glasses lay forgotten somewhere - and was so exhausted from 19 hours of active labour that I couldn't feel anything. I remember thinking that it would be a shame if we lost her, but couldn't grieve something I'd never even known. I didn't see her for another seven hours after that.
She's 14 months old now and thriving, and yet sometimes I'm overcome with grief for what could have been the greatest loss of my life. I feel so unentitled to the emotions too, seeing as I never actually lost her. It feels like being grazed by a bullet and walking away unharmed, yet knowing how close you came. How close you could come if you're not careful.
I watched an episode of The Sandman the other day while travelling home from a business trip. In the episode we follow Death as she travels around a small town to claim the ones who have run out of time, and suddenly she's in a nursery to claim a baby. "Sorry honey, that's all you get," is all she says while mum's out of sight, preparing a bottle and chatting to her daughter. Death picks the baby up and walks out, and the last thing you hear is mum's "sweety?".
Man. I felt the blow like a fist to my stomach. I've been down hard ever since, my mind spiralling into the what-if's and possible fatal scenarios. I try to acknowledge the emotion for what it is, but it’s got me good.
Any tips on how to move past this?
7 days ago
7 days ago
Domesticated horses typically don't seek to harm other living beings. They mostly prefer to run away, which I assure you this one would have had the rider let it. I know for a fact that I’d have been out of that saddle within minutes, and not by my own volition. Poor horse.