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On Writing

Guilt, Josh, Miscarriage, Pregnant with Munchkin, Writing 2 Responses »

Jul 092006

I used to write. A lot. Prose, poetry, short stories, long stories. And, with the birth of a Munchkin, it simply stopped flowing. Oh, I can still write a blog that someone else can relate to on some level of their own. But poetry? I haven’t written a single piece since Munchkin was born. In fact, I stopped writing poetry in the months before her birth. August. She was born in December.

Poetry used to be an outlet. But it’s as if that door closed as I let go of my firstborn child. I’ve felt the desire to write. Though, as of late, my outlet seems to lean more towards photography, but that’s just because my education falls more in line with that than with creative writing of any sort. Though I took the class.

The following is the last recorded poem I have written to date:

Titled: //

She bit her lip. She stared
straight up at the ceiling which
she couldn’t see due to the
pitch black darkness of the
room. She closed her eyes
tighter, tighter, tighter still,
until stars of pink and white
sparkled and shone on the black
canvas. No avail. A tear managed
to seep its way out of the corner
of her left eye, making a lonesome
trail down her cheek. Giving up
the battle, she opened her eyes
to see his head resting on her
ever growing belly; his finger
gently tapping, hoping for response.
She felt a movement from inside
as the baby kicked his face with
a might as fierce as ever. She was
unsure if the giggling that followed
came from his mouth or if she merely
imagined her unborn child laughing
at the game the two had formed.

She felt hideous. She felt she needed
locked away in the deepest, darkest
dungeon for a series of seventeen
lifetime sentences. Anyone with eyes
could see the love he had for
this child; why else would he so
enjoy being kicked square on in the
face? A bond had been formed. And
she was about to break it. So cruel
she felt. She tried to distance herself.
Baseball. Stock market. Pistachios.
She thought of everything. And nothing.
But she knew, deep inside, that moment
would be forever engraved in her mind.

©2003 jenna leigh (maiden name)

Dated August, 31, 2003.

And it is. Forever engraved in my mind. The guilt I have regarding the pain that J experienced due to my shortcomings as a parent is sometimes so overwhelming that I cry silently in the shower. Not in front of him; I don’t want him to worry or feel responsible. It’s my fault. Things are even harder now as I see how wonderful he has been with her over the past two years and how wonderful a Father he is with BigBrother. But I digress. All of that is too close to the surface to deal with.

I am being faced with a need to write again. As J and I are planning this memorial for Rose, I know I need to write something. The words come to me, in bits and pieces. Usually, late at night when sleep is avoiding me. I’ve known since the 24th of June that I need to write. I’ve been having the thoughts of what to write for a week or so now. But I simply cannot sit down to write.

Is it because I associate this poetry with losses in my life? Maybe. I’m not quite certain. I don’t quite know. And I can’t quite put my finger on it. My fingers are itching. And my brain is on overdrive. Words run through my head as I drive. As I lay awake at night. Watching TV. While I work. All the time.

I need to sit. Write. And get it out. It won’t be pretty as I haven’t written in almost two years. But it needs to happen. I need to do this for my Rose, my Angel. I need to do this for BigBrother, so that I may write beautiful things about him. I need to do this for the Munchkin… so she can have new poetry from her firstmother.

I need to do this for me.

The Advice that Changed my Husband’s Life

Bad Advice, Josh, Pre-Placement, Pregnant with Munchkin, Regret Comments Off

May 162006

And not for the best.

I posted the following question(s) in an online community for first(birth)mothers in 2003.

I wrote a letter to the guy that I told we could possibly become a couple when he came home from Iraq to inform him of my pregnancy. I never expected to hear from him again. So when he called the day that he got the letter and said we would discuss it when he got home on Mother's Day… I was shocked. A) He wasn't supposed to be home until January. B) He called!

After his return, he stated that his feelings had not changed for me. We began dating and have been ever since. Originally, at the start of our relationship, I was planning on keeping Munchkin. [...] Now I'm starting to see and hear and feel the effects that my decision [to place] has had on him. He sometimes gets distant when I speak of the adoption and or the baby. However, he loves this child. He's constantly talking to my tummy and doing all those daddy like things even though this baby is not his at all.

I'm worried that he will keep all of these feelings inside and that post-adoption he will resent me for my decision even though he is not the father. I don't know if any of you have been in a similar situation, but advice here is definitely welcome. I don't want to lose him on the other side of this thing as it is hard enough. Thanks for your help.

And someone that I later came to trust as a friend, replied with this gem:

How do you feel? Do you want to be a mom? Are you ready to be a mom? Are you ready to go through an adoption? Your boyfriend's feelings are important, but they shouldn't be what makes or breaks your decision (one way or another.)

You two aren't married and if you decide you want to raise your baby then you need to be able to do it on your own, without your boyfriend's help (financially, emotionally and otherwise.) If he chooses to help, then that's great, but don't put yourself in a position where you can't do it alone.

Your baby is what matter's most. Do what is right for your CHILD – the decision has to be yours, not your boyfriend's.

I posted about finding this exchange a few months ago; it saddened me, deeply, to find that this idea had not been my own but, instead, had been planted in my head by people that I thought knew better. (I was so naive, so trusting. Is it any wonder that I don't trust even nuns now?) I had wanted to include J in the decision, the process. And, for the most part, he was. He attended the first meeting with J and D with me. He was, simply put, always there. I didn't want to make the decision without him, but, as all four of the other responses to that question, including the one from the woman who was to become my friend, told me that I needed to be a "strong woman" and "stick to the plan" and "do this on my own."

Stick to the plan?

Sigh.

I cannot explain well enough how sad this truly makes me. One of the issues that I'm dealing with in therapy is the overwhelming guilt I feel that I caused J undue emotional pain. He loved and continues to love Munchkin. He gladly would have parented her. I'll never forget the day that I told him that I was going to place her for adoption; it's stuck, forever, in my mind. I was sitting on the porch at my parent's house on a warm summer day. We were talking on the phone. He was at work (ambulance company). He had no response. I wondered why. I didn't understand how attached he had become to her until, weeks later, he had his head resting on my belly and she kicked him in the face. He looked at me with the most joyous face ever.

This is one guilt I'm just having a hard time letting go of… I'd do anything to protect my Husband from hurt. I recently became upset with a set of friends who unintentionally hurt my Husband. I don't want for him to be sad, hurt or feel neglected. I'd do anything for this Man. And… I hurt him on a level that no other person in this world was able or will be able to do.

And it wasn't even my own idea. Oh, J, I'm sorry.