No one gets to tell you that you’re fine. You’ve fought hard. You’ve overcome a lot. No one gets to dismiss that for you. You’re not fine.
You're not fine because you're struggling and that's okay. Every day is hard and there is some kind of battle to face. It's okay to not be okay. If you want to not be a fighter today, that's your choice. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise. Cry, scream, vent, carry on. Do what you have to do to get through the day. Find someone that allows you to do that. You need it. You can always try again tomorrow.
You do not have to put on a fake smile and pretend everything is perfect. You know why? Because it's not. It's not perfect because life isn't fair. Are there ways that you am more fortunate than others? Of course, that's the case with anyone. There are also some things that just aren't right. You will have to fight harder or never get them at all and that is what you get to be angry about.
Am I lucky to have a baby at all? Yes. Especially considering the journey I went through to get there.
Was I lucky to get pregnant? Yes, of course, even if it was ended abruptly.
Does any of that take the pain away on the worst days? No.
On my worst days, I struggle to accept the reality.
It's not okay that my pregnancy was cut short and that I missed out on everything that comes along with being pregnant: the baby shower and maternity photos that I had to cancel, the roundness and bump that made it hard to see my toes, the outpouring of affection and love. It's not fair that I read all the books, ate and did all the right things, and was still one of the not-so-lucky ones.
It's not okay that we missed out on the normal excitement. There was no happy gathering at the hospital and passing the baby around to meet everyone for the first time. No one came just to watch him through the nursery glass. Cards wishing congratulations didn't come until months later, if at all, because so many were unsure if we would be taking a baby home.
Our baby's first seven weeks were spent in a hospital where he was kept in a glass box with countless wires and tubes taped to his unbelievably small body. Since then, he's made strides, only to be followed by comments of "He hasn't done that yet?" or "It's about time." He didn't get a grand homecoming. Many people were afraid of him and his appearance, scared to look at him or touch him.
It's unbearable that his life hasn't been easy and that his struggles are far from behind him. He'll be just fine because he's strong and he's a fighter, but I would give anything to avoid all of that for him.
And I know we don't have it the worst...that's exactly my point. I know that "at least our baby is alive." I know that. It doesn't have to be the absolute worst situation for you to feel the pain or to need support. It's okay to admit defeat once in awhile because you don't need to be a superhero.
Breaking down doesn't mean that you aren't proud or that you are giving up, it means that you're frustrated and will give it your all again tomorrow because you may not be a superhero, but you are a hero.
You're not fine because you're struggling and that's okay. Every day is hard and there is some kind of battle to face. It's okay to not be okay. If you want to not be a fighter today, that's your choice. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise. Cry, scream, vent, carry on. Do what you have to do to get through the day. Find someone that allows you to do that. You need it. You can always try again tomorrow.
You do not have to put on a fake smile and pretend everything is perfect. You know why? Because it's not. It's not perfect because life isn't fair. Are there ways that you am more fortunate than others? Of course, that's the case with anyone. There are also some things that just aren't right. You will have to fight harder or never get them at all and that is what you get to be angry about.
Am I lucky to have a baby at all? Yes. Especially considering the journey I went through to get there.
Was I lucky to get pregnant? Yes, of course, even if it was ended abruptly.
Does any of that take the pain away on the worst days? No.
On my worst days, I struggle to accept the reality.
It's not okay that my pregnancy was cut short and that I missed out on everything that comes along with being pregnant: the baby shower and maternity photos that I had to cancel, the roundness and bump that made it hard to see my toes, the outpouring of affection and love. It's not fair that I read all the books, ate and did all the right things, and was still one of the not-so-lucky ones.
It's not okay that we missed out on the normal excitement. There was no happy gathering at the hospital and passing the baby around to meet everyone for the first time. No one came just to watch him through the nursery glass. Cards wishing congratulations didn't come until months later, if at all, because so many were unsure if we would be taking a baby home.
Our baby's first seven weeks were spent in a hospital where he was kept in a glass box with countless wires and tubes taped to his unbelievably small body. Since then, he's made strides, only to be followed by comments of "He hasn't done that yet?" or "It's about time." He didn't get a grand homecoming. Many people were afraid of him and his appearance, scared to look at him or touch him.
It's unbearable that his life hasn't been easy and that his struggles are far from behind him. He'll be just fine because he's strong and he's a fighter, but I would give anything to avoid all of that for him.
And I know we don't have it the worst...that's exactly my point. I know that "at least our baby is alive." I know that. It doesn't have to be the absolute worst situation for you to feel the pain or to need support. It's okay to admit defeat once in awhile because you don't need to be a superhero.
Breaking down doesn't mean that you aren't proud or that you are giving up, it means that you're frustrated and will give it your all again tomorrow because you may not be a superhero, but you are a hero.
Comments
Post a Comment