We are proud to announce that Martha from A Watched Belly Never Grows is the winner of the contest. She speaks of her losses and trying to get through the days. The pain is evident in her words, “This is my life now.Trying to live with my disappointment.Trying to survive this loss.”
Thank you, Martha for sharing your story.
The Room – 11/2/09
It’s there. In the house. The room that was to be the boys’ room. It’s filled with baby boy clothes, toys, a crib, a car seat, broken dreams, dashed hopes, lots of sadness. I haven’t set foot in that room since we moved in. The crib was never set up in there, the decorations never hung on the wall, the walls never painted. I can’t even tell you what the closet looks like in there – the last time I saw it, I was pregnant and we didn’t own the house and now, I can’t really remember life before April 8th.
I walk past the door about 14 times a day and I think, “I’m never going to get in that room.” I lay in bed at night and I can see the door from where I lay and I think, “I’m never going to get up in the middle of the night, pad across the hall, scoop up my crying baby and rock him back to sleep. It’s never going to happen for me.” I lay there, not sleeping, staring at the door.
This is my life now. Trying to live with my disappointment. Trying to survive this loss. I thought I was doing okay but really, these last few weeks…I’m not. I’m not okay. I want so badly to look at the people around me and say, “help me. Please, help me. I’m hurt and I can’t go to the doctor to fix it because it’s deep down inside….they won’t know what to do for me…Someone please just take me in your arms and hold me, let me cry…” I have conversations with people about the weather, books, shopping, whatever but my eyes are searching their faces, begging, “please, ask me how I am…ask me about them…ask me if I’m okay….but only if your prepared for the answer…I can’t freely give this information if you don’t mean it when you ask the question, if you are not prepared for the answer then don’t ask…”
But I don’t. I’m supposed to be better. I’m supposed to be moving forward. The people around me, they have lives, they can’t be taking care of me. I have to take care of myself and Hubby. I’ve always taken care of myself. Always. I have to be strong, I can’t fall apart again.
I want to get into that room…I want a baby to hold and cuddle and love who will live in that room but I fear that will never happen. I want my boys and I KNOW that won’t happen.