I have been struggling to write this post for a while now. I’ve been writing it over and over in my notebook, then drawing big X’s over the words, because I just couldn’t get it to feel right. There was no doubt that Q would stand for Questions, but I couldn’t articulate how much this has been a part of my grieving: questioning, seeking answers, realizing that sometimes there aren’t any answers, and learn that even if there are, sometimes no answers will ever be good enough. It is often much easier to convey what you want when you show instead of tell.
So, here are my questions:
- Why did my babies have to die?
- What did I do wrong?
- What didn’t I do right?
- Why couldn’t the doctors save him?
- What couldn’t the doctors prevent me from losing them?
- Why am I the rare statistic?
- Am I being punished?
- What went wrong?
- Am I (still) a mother?
- Am I a bad mother?
- Am I a broken woman?
- Am I still a woman?
- Does my husband blame me?
- Will my husband want to leave me for a fertile woman?
- Do my children blame me?
- Was it my fault?
- Did the flu shot harm Calvin?
- Did the resin harm Rainbow?
- Did my anxiety harm Gaelen?
- What should I have done differently?
- What haven’t I learned that makes me keep losing my babies?
- Am I meant to be a mother?
- Will I ever having a living child?
- Will I only mother children in heaven?
- Does wanting more children mean I love them less?
- Do my babies count?
- Do I count?
- What if I forget?
- Why couldn’t I save them?
- Why couldn’t I keep them?
- Why don’t I have them?
What are your questions?
I think most life changes come with their own sets of questions. The good ones, though, are accompanied with more of a sense of wonder at how one’s path led to that point. With loss, the questions become more painful, desperate even. Have you asked any of the same questions? What other questions would you add to the list?
This post is a part of a series called Unpacking Grief, which I began as part of the Blogging from A to Z April Challenge.
it would be hard for me to write down every question that came to mind over the years. i always replayed what i ate or what activity could’ve ruptured my sac. it’s not as heavily on my mind now for my sanity. i will never know the answers until i meet God face to face. i don’t think i can live with the answers if there really was something that i did wrong to harm Joey’s sac. maybe there is only so much i can handle.
that is a really, really good point Patty. it was really hard to learn that Gaelen was “normal” because it made me feel like it was really my fault. i really don’t think you could have done anything, though, honey.
Yes, so many questions. I have asked many too. Wish I had answers! But really, would they make it any better? I’m not sure.
For me it is
Did I do this?
Could it have been prevented?
Should I have waited longer to TTC?
Yes, Holly, all of those questions, too. of course you didn’t do it, but it’s so hard not to ask it as a mommy (like Elaine said the questions will never stop).
I think we all have those questions. I have no idea why my son died. There was no clear medical reason and we chose not to have tests done on him. I wonder was it the artificial sweeteners I drank? Or my workout routine? I will always to some degree blame myself. I think you’ve summed it up but as a Christian I also wonder if it was punishment for something. Did God feel like it would teach me a lesson? After all, it did. I don’t think, as mothers, we will ever stop with the Q’s.
all of those little details come up for me, too, elaine. like was it the sushi i ate? was it the long walking? was it the resin from making pendants? the learning lessons question… i literally cried asking my husband, “what haven’t i learned that i had to lose another baby?” after we lost Gaelen.