silent screaming

I woke this morning, clasping my hand to my throat. Feeling hoarse, as though I had been screaming all night. In my dream, I was.

I was with my sister, and we were arguing. I don’t know if it’s leftover sibling rivalry or what, but it seems to me sometimes that she and I battle more than other sisters.

In my dream, I was screaming at her about life’s unfairness. How she isn’t grateful enough for the gifts she’s been given, the luck that she’s been blessed enough to have. I was howling at the top of my lungs about her baby, how I deserved one, how I had worked for one, how hard I tried. How fantastically I failed to have one. How I lost the ones I had, that I killed my babies because my body betrayed me.

Sometimes I’m shocked this stuff is still there, buried deeper than I can probe. Latent misery waiting to be unlocked by a dream.

I woke this morning, upset and guilty that I would act as if she didn’t deserve her good fortune, her pregnancy. Saddened that once again, this monster rears its head.

I woke this morning, overwhelmed with grief.

My sister texted me a photo of her ultrasound picture shortly after I returned from NY this week. It was difficult to be there and be around all the baby centered conversations. Talk of names, nursery planning, showers, maternity clothes and so on. 

I felt proud that I didn’t get upset at any of these conversations. Even though my stomach hurt and my heart ached, I smiled and tried to be a good sport. It was only after I got home, in the privacy and safety of my own kitchen, I broke down and cried. I haven’t figured out how to manage all the feelings that come with the progression of her pregnancy. 

I want everything to go well, I want her to have an uneventful pregnancy, a pleasant delivery, a health baby. I really do. I just don’t know how to let go of the “what if”; how to stop wondering what might have been.