Lost

I'm lost. I don't know what to do. It's confusing.

I'm talking about now and the rest of my life.

I don't know what to do today, or tomorrow, or next week, or next month, or next year.

I'm completely lost.

:::

Back before all the dead babies, I never really doubted the future, my future. I didn't query what was to come. I was just always sure it would be "better".

I can be honest and say I had high expectations, but I'd grown up with parents who encouraged that for their children and believed it themselves.

So I always expected the best from myself, as well as from others, and looked forward to a future which would (of course) be better.

Not surprisingly I've felt incredibly let down.

I feel let down by the people around me. Those from whom I expected nothing but the best.

I feel let down by my parents and siblings. It was a hurtful truth the day I realised that my pain and my grief comes only second (or third or fourth or more ...) to theirs.

I feel let down by life in general. How come my children died? Why couldn't it be someone else's children? How come all my children died? Couldn't one have been left for me?

I'm sad that my career has come to an end. And that it finished not because of a conscious decision, but because I fell apart.

I'm sad because I feel so alone. So incredibly alone. I have Craig, but I have no-one else. I feel let down by all those friends I used to have. Where are they now? Where have they been?

:::

I sit in our apartment and watch the weather outside. It's been raining a lot. I'm wondering when summer is coming this year ... if at all.

I feel "safe" in our apartment. Or perhaps "safe" is the wrong word. After all, Kees stopped breathing right over there, on the black leather sofa. Our living room was barely big enough to accommodate the 7 or 8 police officers and paramedics who responded to my emergency phone call.

So safe isn't the right word. Comfortable. Isolated. Away from nasty people who think they know everything better.

:::

I don't know how long we can stay here. In this apartment. It may be that the pension I will receive, together with income insurance, will not be enough to pay for this apartment.

It's scary, not knowing.

But maybe it will jolt us out of our comfort zone to a new place. Maybe we'll get a chance to start in another place, to build something for ourselves.

:::

Shall I have another baby? Or not?

That's what we think about now. Because we've spoken to doctors. And they've said that a future child of ours would require 24/7 monitoring. To see if there's something wrong.

So that's what I think about now.

Another baby?

Or not.