Today is not a good day. Today I am blinded by hatred and anger. Today I am upset that this is all I can feel. Today is the first time I’ve come away from a counselling session and felt worse. Working as a therapist I know that sometimes people feel that talking makes things worse. It feels a powerless place to be in when you want to help someone. In that particular moment all you can do is acknowledge the emotions and hope that they will return if and when it feels right and that I can help again.
Today my feelings are about my frustration with myself and this situation, that no one has any answers, that I don’t have the answers. I hate everything and up until now I didn’t ‘hate’ the way I do now.
I hate being so useless & powerless, I hate going to the assisted conception clinic, I hate walking past the antenatal clinic to get there, I hate sitting in the waiting room thinking I’m the one who got pregnant and lost a fully developed baby who needed me. I hate the pain I have caused my family.
I hate sitting for an hour and not being able to find the vocabulary that really reflects what it is we’re going through, I hate crying, I hate that all anyone can do is nod sympathetically at me and this horrid situation, I hate that nobody understands what it is to wake up and think your baby is still alive. I hate that the people who brought me some comfort don’t anymore, I hate that I can’t derive anything useful or meaningful from those people now. I hate that people have shown us so much love and yet all I feel is desperately alone & heartbroken.
I hate my bump, I hate sensory flashbacks, I hate talking, I hate counselling, I hate writing, I hate the sight of pregnant women, I hate that other people can have a baby and we can’t, I hate the nursery, I hate the tiny folded baby grows, I hate the crib, I hate the top of the range pushchair I begged my wife for because I wanted everything to be perfect for my little boy.
I hate people sending me sympathy cards instead of congratulations on your new baby, I hate the flowers that people send because they die, I hate ivf, I hate the clinic, I hate that they were in charge of our embryos for 5 days and said these were the best ones, I hate that we paid the clinic so much money and not one person (apart from the counsellor) could acknowledge our loss. I hate that somedays the only place I want to be is in room 7 on the ward where I gave birth because that’s the only place I held him. I hate that I couldn’t bring him home to show him our house.
I hate that life just carries on, I hate my body, I hate myself, I hate that the only thing- THE ONLY THING- I want is my baby and that I nor anyone else or any amount of time or tears or talking will ever bring him back to us.
I hate feeling hatred.
What was the point in any of it? What is the point of me now he has gone?
To my little boy, I am so very sorry xxxx