The birth that never came to be

For months I had been planning and anticipating the joyous and peaceful homebirth of precious Duncan. I was so completely excited and anxious. I had been wanting this experience for so long. I looked forward to it from the beginning. I love giving birth. Birthing a new life is so empowering, more so when it is done on your own terms, in your own environment surrounded by loved ones. I wanted this so much. I still get emotional and deeply sad when I recall the events that took place in the wee hours of Friday morning. I felt so helpless and lost. I hated being in the hospital. I hated not being in control and poked and prodded. I regret going back to be induced. I wasn't thinking clearly. I wasn't thinking at all. I was just so shocked and stunned by it all that I didn't even consider the idea of just staying home and birthing him there. It would have been as "peaceful" as it could be in that situation. It still wouldn't have filled the void, the void of giving birth to life, but it would have caused me less anxiety and stress.

I will get my dream birth; I will get my homebirth. I look forward to the day I where I will be overcome with joy, happiness, empowerment, awe and wonder. I wait for that day; I wait for that birth. It will come.

Drowning In Tears

My milk is in now and I can't stop crying. I have no baby to feed. My heart aches and I'm numb, so numb and raw. My arms empty when they're supposed to be full. My heart hurts. My whole world was shattered in an instant and now I'm reminded of what I don't have. My son is gone. He's not here with me, in my arms receiving my warm milk, that liquid life. I can not stare into his eyes and watch him fall blissfully asleep while hugged tightly to my breast. I'm left wanting and yearning for my baby, my son and my heart to be whole again. It hurts. Physically, mentally, emotionally. I just want to be whole again.