Horrible Things

It was after I read Salma’s blog that the idea of sharing my grief came upon me. Sharing really works a lot. Not only for me, but also for people who have had same losses like me. My hubby asked me to be strong and stop crying over the spilt milk (??). But crying is also a way of getting around, isn’t it? There are so many things that bother me now, right like Salma.

• I don’t have anything of my boy, Hamdu Mon, to keep with me. His photo, his dresses or anything. I don’t know why nobody thought of keeping it for me. I asked my hubby to keep one of his dresses, but he didn’t do that too. May be he thought it would be better if I never saw it. But my loss is my loss, isn’t it?


• I don’t have anything to keep me busy. Not much books to read. We don’t have a stable net connection or anything of that sort.


• I want to do some social works badly, but don’t know where or how to start. Anybody in Dubai, who is reading this, please help me if you can.


• I wasn’t able to attend Hamdu Mon’s funeral or go to his grave.


• I wasn’t able to hold him or even touch him.


• The nurse at the hospital never listened to my request for a second look at my Hamdu Mon.


• I was not able to call him the name I wished to call.


• The way my family struggled to keep me happy and occupied all the time, especially my mother.


• And not being able to spend some time alone


• The troubles my mother had to suffer, as the midwife who promised to look after me broke her word at the last moment.


• The allergies due to the medications.


• The look of grief on the faces of people who loved me so much.


• The sadness I feel when I see or go to places I have gone when I was pregnant.


• A sense of loss when I see babies the age of my son.


• The fact that I have to wait for months (or years) to have another baby again. But still, will that ever replace the lost one?


• The lost 9 months plus 2 months of bed rest. Wasted almost a year.


• The no-crying, no-laughing, no-talking, no-reading rule imposed during the post-delivery time.


• The fear of happening this again in my life.


• Not being able to forget all this stuff.