Tuesday, November 3, 2009

My house

I hate our house.
I come in and I see the stove where I burned my pregnant belly on. I see the drawer where I held all the diaper coupons. Move the basement where I would sit and daydream about trying to navigate the stairs with two babies. I remember getting my brand new laptop computer, taking it downstairs and making silly videos of ourselves as parents.
The upstairs is, by far, the worse. The bed where I would lay each night, reading books about pregnancy and parenting, surfing the net for baby stuff, watching episodes of Gilmore Girls and One Tree Hill to relax at night since I should "take it easy."
The room.
THE room.
That damn room.
That we painted dancing green.
That I sat in a glider, listening to lullabies and reading aloud whatever book I was reading to the babies.

The stove that now I don't even feel like cooking on.
The drawer that has toothpaste coupons.
The basement that is so empty. Void of personal photos. Void.
The bed where my water broke. Where I laid for two weeks, pleading with God. Trying to bargain. Begging him to watch my husband so he could see how good of a dad he would be. The bed where I spent weeks after the babies were born, bleeding, hurting, sore, tired, empty. So, so empty. Surfing the net trying to find someone with whom I could connect.
The room.
That damn room.
That we repainted white (3 coats).
That I won't go in. That closet that is stuffed with maternity clothes and a maternity pillow and random things of the babies that I couldn't part with.

I hate this house.
And no one wants to buy it. No one knows. They don't know how much I want to be out of here. They don't understand the pain I feel when I am here. That it's the one place you're supposed to feel comfortable and I hate it more than anything.

I suppose I can't really run away from it. That the pain is inside of ME not in this place. It's the memories, not the actual rooms and paint and walls that is the problem.

But I want to be gone. I want to go. I want to start over someplace else, hope for a happy us someplace else.

We called the realtor cause we've had no activity lately. He says the only we can do is drop the price. Well, we so would if we could. If we had planned on moving. If we had saved money for that. But we hadn't and we didn't. So we are stuck here. It's quickly approaching winter and soon the market will be slow. Slower than it already is.

One of my friends from school just sold her house.
I am so irrational. All I could think was, She doesn't deserve it! She's only moving because she wants a bigger house! She doesn't NEED it. I NEED it.
First of all, that is so irrational, and I know this.
Second of all, I don't NEED it. I feel like there's a part of me that would be comforted by starting over, by having something to focus on that's a sure thing.
But in life, we don't get what we deserve. People get hurt for no.good.reason. Bad shit happens. And just because it did doesn't mean that I get a free pass in whatever comes next, ya know?

14 comments:

Tina said...

I think we all deserve a free pass for the rest of our lives! This post brought tears to my eyes because I can hear the pain in your writing and I can see many of those same things you describe in my own home. However, for me, it isn't as painful and I think that might be because we do have children that we have made this home with. I am so, so sorry...I wish I could help ease the pain. xx

Akul's mama said...

I cried as I read this. It reminded me so much of my own pain. I remember after Akul I was desperate to find out why this happened and I would sit googling "why children die" and "my child died" blahblah but never got any answers or whatever I was seeking. I do not even know what I wanted but I just wanted the intense pain to go away. Now I have learnt to live with it. I remember my husband saying we will never leave the condo we live in because our baby lived here. I reminded him that our baby lived inside my womb and whereever I go, I will carry my womb with me. My womb reminds me of Akul...what am I going to do? Hugsssssssssss.

Jen said...

i am with you..I wish so bad to leave not just the house, the town, the state..start fresh..start somewhere where my heart doesn't ache every single second of every single day though.. sadly as more time goes on, I don't think this place even exists..hugs, wish I could help..

klarsen said...

I am so sorry. I too look at my bed and remember my water breaking. The bathroom floor and the puddle of blood. The empty wall in the nursery that I would have painted letters and hung her name on. From down here everyone else seems like they have it pretty damn good and just don't see it. You are in my prayers. I hope you get that fresh start.

((((hugs))))))) Katy

Marie W said...

I feel the same way! Every room I go in, I remember something that happened when I was pregnant or something I did while pregnant. I hurts and it is like a knife stabbing me in the heart. When I enter the baby's room, the wave of emotion overtakes me so I stagger out. Hugs to you hun.

MK said...

You know I can't go in that room so I totally understand where you are coming from. I'm so sorry this is so hard and it's not fair. Big hugs to you.

Bluebird said...

I so understand. The memories are suffocating sometimes. The bed, that room. . . all the dreams. . .

I felt the same way after we lost our twins, except I not only wanted to leave the house but also the state and maybe the country! I've calmed down now, and it actually terrifies me to leave the place with all their memories - it's the only place where they "were". . .

But, I so understand what you're saying. I think of a fellow dbm blogger who sold their house, taking quite a loss, just to get out. . .

I hope you're able to soon. ((Hugs))

Mary Ann said...

I know how you feel. We left. I got a new bed. Nothing in my house has anything 'baby' in it. My mother has the stuff I couldnt throw away quite yet. there should be a limit on how many bad things can happen in a person's life. and they should not have to stay in the place where they relive it.

much love.

Kristy said...

How I can relate Christy, to so many things you said. The memories of what rooms "should have been", to where you spent so much time resting, to the dreams and now the nightmare of what has happened...all in one house. I've been there, twice. Twice now I have wanted to pack up and move far far away. Away from my pain, out home, the memories. I remember where I layed on bed rest here at home for weeks on end, with both of the boys. The tv shows I watched, which are now way too hard to watch because it takes me right back. I refuse to shower in one of our bathrooms because it just brings me back. Instead of moving, we renovated. I talked to my counsellor about it after we lost E and she said its VERY normal for people to want change after such a loss. And this was my way of attempting to change. It doens't change whats behind the paint, new rooms, new walls, new doors...my memories are still here. But i'm not looking at the same walls, the same doors, the same paint...its new. And in a way it gives me hope for the future. Maybe hope for something new.

Love and hugs!

Catherine W said...

Oh Christy. It breaks my heart this post. I hope you find a buyer soon. I wish that you could get a free pass for a bit. xo

Missing Kasey said...

We totally deserve a free pass!! Where do we sign up? ((hugs)) I hope that your house will sell soon!

Holly said...

I hope that someone comes along and decides to buy your house. I hope that happens for you.

Kristie M. Verret said...

I remember that feeling. The day I walked into the bedroom and the rocking chair was sitting at the foot of our bed. It was bought especially for Samantha, and I already had it in place in preparation for where i would sit and rock her at night. I was repulsed at the sight of it. Sickened by how it made me feel. i had my husband take it out immediately. At first I wanted to bury all of Sammi's things with her. But some how we didn't. It wasn't long before I swore I would never leave this town. I wanted to always be where my baby is buried.

I'm so sorry for your loss. My heart breaks for every baby lost, for every mom with empty arms, and for every painful post from their breaking hearts. I know that it doesn't seem like much now, and I hope that it doesn't upset you, I don't mean to be offensive, but I would really like to pray for you.

Heavenly Father, thank you for connecting us all. All the mothers that have come here that could relate to this post, that could deeply understand this cruel pain. Thank you that you give us each other to reach out and to comfort. Sometimes it is a comfort just to know someone else understands. There is no way for us as mothers to fully understand or wrap our minds around losing our children. Im asking you Lord right now for peace. For the woman who wrote this post, who has this blog, that she would receive your immediate deep peace. That it would be so strong, so overwhelmingly comforting that she would know immediately that this rush of comfort and love and warmth is from you. God be with her, be with her husband. I know that the dads sometimes get lost put in the background, but they too deserve your peace and comfort. They need to get their strength from somewhere and I pray that this dad, finds his strength in you. God fill their hearts with hope. let them find some level of joy again. I pray their hope will be in you. Please bless this family. Ease their pain, relieve their sorrows. In Jesus name, I pray, AMEN

Once A Mother said...

I'm sorry. I too find this house overwhelming sometimes, in all the ways it has failed to fulfill my dreams. I pray that you find some peace, that you find some comfort. It is so hard to look around you and see only heartache. So very sorry.