How do you even begin to forgive people who are not sorry
for the endless hurt they have caused you?
Hurt that goes beyond anything most people could even fathom? How can you ever really trust them again when
they let you down in the most incredible ways?
I have never had a very supportive family. That’s my life. My parents who adopted me had not really
supported me since I was a young teenager.
They were always too selfishly wrapped up in their own concerns and
doing what they wanted. Yes, they
behaved like children instead of parents and adults. They never developed the ability to put
others’ needs before themselves. I was
alone so much of my adolescent years. I
reached out to others (yes, even boys) in somewhat unhealthy ways to cope with
the loneliness. I escaped to college and
was enjoying my first year with the freedom to live my life for me.
Then, I met a boy who had come from similar
circumstances. Parents who were too
selfish to ever care to accomplish anything for themselves or their
children. A selfish father who abandoned
him at the first opportunity when he was a teenager. I believe he only stuck around as long as he
did for the “free ride” of living off his in-laws who had helped support them
their whole lives. Who knows where his
son would have ended up without his grandparents’ support? His mother continued to live her life
selfishly barely getting by in a dead end job and not trying to better
herself. After the loss of her supportive
mother, she just got worse. Her house
was a mess. Her son escaped to college
as his grandmother had wished, and we met during his junior year. I think what I was drawn to most was that he
could understand a little of what my life had been like. I fell in love hard and fast. Our final years of college were a whirlwind,
and we knew we needed to get married as soon as college ended because we had no
one but each other. Eddie was finally
blessed with his first job in his chosen career field as a forester during my
junior year of college, and he proposed shortly thereafter. He worked hard to prepare a home to provide
for me for when we were married. We were
so happy to be married. Even without
loving and supportive families, we felt we could accomplish anything together
and with God’s help.
The next few years were difficult but still happy. After two years of renting our first home
together, we decided to put down some roots and buy our first home. I was working about an hour away from home,
but we were making it work. Then, after
over a year in our new home, we decided to add to our family and were expecting
our first baby. We were nervous how my
job and long commute would work out once our baby arrived. We knew we would have no family to help us
care for him. We just trusted God to
provide a way. Eddie had been applying
for many other jobs within his career field and prepared to move to wherever a
good opportunity opened up to better provide for our family.
Finally, while we were in the labor and delivery room
bringing our son into the world, Eddie received the call about a job transfer
to Charlotte. He knew it was only a
lateral move, but he also hoped that we would all have better opportunities in
that bigger city where I could eventually obtain a better paying job closer to
home. He also hoped it was a stepping
stone to better opportunities for growth in his profession. So soon after welcoming our newborn son, we
prepared to relocate across the state.
With little to no help in the months ahead, life was rough but still
happy. We listed our first home for sale
and prayed that burden would be lifted from us, but a downturn in the economy
and a very poor area made it impossible to sell a house we had only purchased
brand new just two years before. After several
months of a difficult transition to his new job, we needed to permanently
relocate to Charlotte. We moved into an
apartment in Charlotte while continuing to try to sell and later rent our
house. We finally secured some renters,
but the rent was still way below the monthly house payment. Eddie did what he could to support our family
during this time and went out west to fight wildfires to make extra money.
Despite financial difficulties, our first year as parents
was still filled with the sweetest memories as we watched our precious son
grow. I finally obtained a better job
opportunity that would allow me to work closer to home and afford to put our
son in full day daycare after he was a year old. I was so sad to leave him, but we had no
other feasible options. We had no one
else to help care for him or support him.
He totally depended on us for all of his needs, and we weren’t going to
let him down. We had been let down too
much by our own parents. I decided after
a year of working that our family needed me to further sacrifice to hopefully
provide better opportunities for us so I chose to go to law school at night
while continuing to work full time. It
was so hard being away from my husband and young son all day and many nights.
Despite all of our difficulties with work and going to
school, we decided to give Evan a baby brother after four years. We welcomed our second son at the end of my
second year of law school. How could I
ever regret that decision? We continued
to trust that together and with God’s help, we could accomplish anything. Our boys made life feel so blessed. We enjoyed making so many happy memories
together, and we really didn’t feel we could complain despite the fact that we
knew we didn’t have many of the blessings most young families have like a lot
of family to love and support them. We
still had to rely on outside childcare help and tried a succession of nannies
for years who just never worked out. Our
first nanny was a blessing until her health took a severe turn for the worse
after almost a year with us. Then, we
had several younger nannies who just really didn’t want to do anything with our
kids all day which made us very sad for them.
We felt we were paying them a decent salary out of our hard earned money
and that our children deserved more.
Still, we decided we wanted to try for one more baby before
my law school career ended, and I moved on to hopefully starting a new
career. We were so excited to be
expecting our first baby girl right after I graduated from law school and
celebrated our ten year anniversary. It
was a difficult year being pregnant, working full time, finishing law school,
and still having no support from anyone but my husband. Even my brother and his wife who lived in
Charlotte were always too selfish to care very much for us or our
children. Oh but she had such a hard
life staying home with her kids and having a nanny to help her. They couldn’t even be happy for us expecting
our third child and first girl after we had supported them and even babysat for
their four kids occasionally while they went out together. Finally, my due date arrived, and I reached
out to my sister-in-law to have a girls’ day together having lunch and getting
pedicures. Yes, I reached out to her
even though she really didn’t care very much to be there for us or our new baby. Oh, she would act happy when we came to visit
them, but they left to head to the beach that week even though I was overdue to
have our baby with no other family close by to help us with our boys if I went
into labor. I was not scheduled to be
induced until 41 weeks.
At 40 weeks 6 days, I awoke to intense and regular labor
contractions. My husband didn’t seem to
be aware of how serious natural labor can be which may be in part due to us
having two previous late term inductions.
I told him several times we needed to prepare to head to the hospital
and begged him to call his mother to get there to watch our boys. He called her that morning, and we
waited. And waited. And waited.
Through some very severe contractions that my husband didn’t seem to
understand were quite painful to the point of not being able to walk or move
through them. He insisted we needed to
go eat lunch and get haircuts for the boys.
I didn’t think it was wise and I told him so, but he insisted. Now you would think a husband would be more
concerned for his laboring wife’s concerns.
I knew that even though the contractions were only ten minutes apart,
they were very regular and very intense.
My water had not broken, but I had never been in natural labor before. I was concerned with how intense the
contractions were. I had to stop in a
parking lot on the way into the restaurant in the middle of one very intense
one. He went on inside with our oldest
son while I was holding the hand of our young two year old and trying to get
through a contraction so I could walk. I
still cry thinking of this day since I don’t know at what point my precious baby
girl left us. Any of these intense
contractions could have been her last movements. I was confused about what to do. I knew I needed to go to the hospital, but
Eddie’s mother still hadn’t shown up and he didn’t seem concerned about getting
to the hospital. We made it through
lunch and took the boys to a hair salon.
I tried to go in, but I had to go get back into the car because of more
severe contractions. I felt so
alone. We got back home and still Eddie’s
mom had not arrived. I laid down and
just tried to monitor contractions as we waited. I went ahead and called the doctor to tell
him my progress and that we would be coming to the hospital shortly as
contractions were now five minutes apart.
Finally, after 4 p.m., Eddie’s mom arrived. What kind of loving and supportive parents
and grandparents don’t hurry to be there for the birth of a grandchild? And where were my parents? Well, besides being physically incapable of
doing anything to help us or support us, they arrived sometime that night to
stay in a hotel. Nope, they weren’t
there to help watch their grandkids.
So it was about 4:30 p.m. before we could kiss our kids
goodbye and head to the hospital. It
started to rain as we were leaving.
Contractions were getting more frequent and were 2 to 3 minutes
apart. By the time we arrived, I needed
a wheelchair to even make it up to labor and delivery. Upon arrival, I am taken into triage and told
to give a urine sample and get into a hospital gown. No, they didn’t immediately start monitoring
me. I had to suffer through several
contractions while trying to pee in a cup by myself in the bathroom when I had
difficulty even standing on my own through contractions. I’m not even sure why they needed the urine
sample. Maybe they needed proof that this huge 40 week pregnant woman was in
fact pregnant. Sigh. It was a very incompetent hospital that
night. I finally made it onto a hospital
bed where a nurse started using a Doppler to try to find the heartbeat. Seconds and minutes ticked by with no actual
words from her. I guess they had paged
my doctor who finally showed up to hook up an ultrasound machine. So after all of this loving and supportive
care from everyone, I get to hear those lovely words “there is no heartbeat.” Like a huge, full term baby was nothing at
all to them. A baby who should have been
delivered already. After a long night of
crying through an emotional labor in which I delivered our 8 lb. baby girl
naturally, I felt even more alone.
Our “families” finally showed up to act like they
cared. You know, going through the
motions of pretending they had any real emotional connections to us. Well, at least my mother didn’t pretend. She was so “out of it” it was just like
another regular day to her. She barely
even acknowledged the baby in my arms as she rattled on about who knows
what. Finally, I had to make everyone
leave us. Our young sons were
confused. Evan was heartbroken over
seeing his baby sister’s lifeless body.
He went home to try to rest with this grandmother. We kept Brody with us for the night, and
Eddie used that as an excuse to not come near me all night. He slept ( I guess he slept since I heard
nothing from him all night) with Brody on the couch in the room. I laid in bed holding our daughter and crying
and praying and even screaming out all night.
I had never felt more alone in my life.
I couldn’t imagine how a person who had already been denied so much in
life could be expected to suffer yet another tremendous loss. I had longed for this baby girl as a way of
having a mother daughter bond that I had never known for myself. My husband never came to me at all that
night. Did he even hear my cries? Did he even care? How can I begin to believe even he really cared
for me when he couldn’t be there for me during my most difficult day? Did he even take any responsibility for not
caring about me during labor and getting me to the hospital when I had begged
him to do so?
The next day, I had to do everything I could to hold it
together and “enjoy” the only moments I would get to hold my daughter on this
earth. I wanted pictures to remember
her. I showered and got dressed so that
those pictures would be a beautiful reminder of our daughter as a part of our
family. I didn’t want anyone to ever
deny she had existed. Of course, I think
most people around us at this point do try to forget she existed. My brother and his wife had showed up to act
the part of caring family along with my parents and my husband’s mother. That was it.
That was everyone who showed up to “meet” our precious daughter. I finally had to urge them all to leave so I
could have a few minutes alone with my husband and daughter before the hospital
made me leave. I was in the hospital
less than 24 hours and for most of that time, they were constantly checking to
see if I was “ready to leave.” Didn’t
they care this was the only time I would get with my daughter? The anger and resentment was growing stronger
by the minute. After finally handing our
daughter over to a nurse, we did leave.
I had tried to get a few minutes for my husband to hold me and our
daughter. He had barely even touched
much less held our daughter since she was born.
He laid on the bed with us for a few minutes before he said we needed to
leave. Didn’t he care at all about his
daughter and never seeing her again?
Didn’t he want to remember her beautiful face or how soft she felt in
his arms? I couldn’t understand it. I thought he wanted a daughter but now I wasn’t
so sure. I wasn’t even sure he wanted me
anymore. So we headed home with empty arms and an empty
car seat in the backseat. A future I had
looked forward to with such promise had shattered in an instant. I didn’t know where to go from here. Yes, part of me wasn’t sure I even wanted to
go forward, but of course, the thought of my sons with no one to really love
them but me did make me move forward. I
wondered how my relationship with my husband would ever heal from this. I felt abandoned by him after that night in
the hospital. Throughout this pregnancy,
we had suffered some rocky times as he wasn’t understanding of all I was going
through. I was unknowingly already
suffering from health issues that were also causing me extreme exhaustion, but
I guess I am a “strong” person who managed to handle it all without help so I
must be okay, right? Why would my
husband need to be concerned about me?
The following week was a whirlwind in which I planned our
daughter’s funeral. I planned what would
be said. I made a video so that “family”
and “friends” could see our beautiful daughter.
I went to pick out flowers. Who
else could do this but me? Who else
cared to? In the days following the
funeral, I couldn’t stop or even slow down.
I had to be there for my other children.
Who else could we depend on? No
family came to stay and help care for them.
No “offers” of help materialized.
People said flowery words in cards and on facebook but no one actually
showed up. It was the same old
story. We were totally alone.
In the months and years that followed, I have held these
feelings inside as “family” and “friends” continued to “disappear” from our
lives. I thought having another baby
would help us heal, but even that wasn’t going to happen easily this time. After months and months and some unexplained
physical changes, I was finally diagnosed with hypothyroid which I suspect I
had for a while during my pregnancy with our daughter. After getting that under control, we did
finally get the “happy” news of our rainbow baby. Who did I care to share that with? Not many.
My brother and his wife had decided to have a fifth child after our daughter
passed. How could I be there again for
them when they had stayed away from us and offered little to know real support
for us and our daughter? I haven’t seen
them since, and they haven’t met my precious little rainbow. Why would I care to expose my children to
more selfish people who don’t care for them?
And to the “cousins” who are being raised to be as selfish as their
parents. At this point, I may never see
any of them again. They continue to live
in their selfish little worlds which only revolve around them. Yes, you may expect better from the only real
blood relation I have, but my brother has always only looked out for
himself. We were never close growing
up. He didn’t care to be around us
during the 8 years we lived in Charlotte unless he needed something from
us. It is always about them, and after
losing Mattie, I don’t need that kind of “family” anymore. I doubt any of our family realizes any of the
real hurt they have caused us because they just don’t care enough to consider
others’ feelings. They have only cared
about themselves their whole lives. My
mother died, and my father is living his life the way he wants it. He has nothing left from his whole life spent
with his wife and children. He has no
savings. He didn’t want to step up and
be a dad and grandfather even after his wife passed away when he could have
moved in with us to help us with our boys and get his finances straight. He preferred living in an overcrowded house,
even in an unfinished and unheated basement, with his son who lives the same
selfish way he does and doesn’t make him try to be financially responsible. My husband still wasn’t a super supportive
husband during my rainbow pregnancy, but I fought for better medical care and
an earlier induction to get my baby boy here safely. He did help bring some joy and healing back
into my life, but the fact he still has so few family to care for him makes me
more bitter and sad. I question why my
life was “blessed” with so many disappointments and so few people who care for
me, but then I think it has made me a more loving and caring mother to my own
children. I hope they will forgive me
for any bitterness and anger they see in me because I am not perfect. I still feel the resentment and anger, and I
still have trouble forgiving. How can I
forgive a family who failed me at the most critical time of my life and doesn’t
even seem remorseful or sorry for their actions? I know God forgives us for so much worse, and
I need to begin the forgiveness process so that I can move forward. I just don’t know how.
You may question why I am writing this. I think that holding it in for years has
really made it very difficult for me to release the bitterness and anger and
start the forgiveness process. I hope
that by writing about my feelings where anyone who does care can read it will
help me begin to let go of some of these feelings that are weighing me
down. I know that forgiveness is more
for me than for others so I want to begin the process for me.
