My child died after only a month on this earth. I’m going to spare myself the tears on explaining how, but the tears of my wife are ones I’ll never forget.
Grief is ugly, it’s so fucking ugly. When we lost him, it sounded as if my wife was regurgitating fragments of her soul. Her wails could’ve shattered glass, curdled blood. The cries would turn to screams; screams at the universe, at whichever sick, twisted higher power would let this happen, at herself, at me. She’d scream until the skin of her throat shredded to ribbons.
I’ll be honest, I didn’t cry. I don’t remember if I even shed a tear. But not because I wasn’t upset, I didn’t cry because it felt like she was already doing it for me. No pain is more shared than a grieving mothers cry.
I wished there was a handbook on grief, a For Dummies, if you will. One that could’ve especially prepared me for the before and the after. Before, you’re just waiting, like you’re watching an hourglass of life on its last grain.
My heart is pumping while he flatlines, and it hits like a wave. I’m going to have to grieve, I thought to myself. Before I could even experience it, I thought about how it was coming right for me. And I knew that in the blink of an eye, life was going to be something that I’d have to fight for. Maybe I was already grieving him before he went, maybe I was prepared. Or I just thought I was, I don’t think you ever could be prepared.
Then, you reach the after. Not the moment you leave the hospital room, or even the drive home. It’s the moment you open that front door, the air sucked out of the room, and you feel that thorough fucking void; that void in your chest, in your relationship, in your home. This is it, this is my life now. This is real.
What hurt even more was that this new life wasn’t so foreign to me, it was one I had nearly a month ago. I felt so guilty for not grieving him but instead grieving for what he could’ve been. I grieved for the first birthday and dozens after it, the first steps, the graduations, I’d even trade a hormonal teen fight with him over this.
I couldn’t help but grieve the life he could’ve had instead of the one we lost. My wife felt differently; she missed their skin touching, humming to him, even dragging herself out of bed at 3am because he was crying again.
We never really discussed it, but we could just tell that we were grieving down two separate paths. Our backs were always turned in bed, she’d flinch when I’d touch her; it was as if she was aller
... keep reading on reddit ➡
Hello, this situation has stressed me out a lot and I am really not sure what to do or how I might have messed up. I (27 agender)have always loved and wanted children but I am not able to have them for a variety of reasons, the main ones being that I am autistic and not independent and I am sterile. My brother and his wife had a baby four months ago, I only met this baby once when he was two months old. However it really struck me then how badly I want children and how much it hurts that I will never be able to. Because of this I made the decision to purchase a realistic reborn baby doll (for people who are not aware reborns are very realistic dolls that are weighted to feel like a real baby made with silicone to feel like one as well), I had the doll made to look like what my child might have. This Christmas my brother and his wife and baby visited us and his wife saw the doll for the first time. I did not have it out and was not holding it or anything but she came upstairs to my room and I had the doll in a bassinet. She was extremely upset by this and yelled at me and called me a freak and said it was disturbing and creepy to get a doll to look like her baby and 'play make believe' with it. I did try to explain that it was not intended to be a replica of her child, just a child that looked like me but she left and told my brother that I was a creep and she felt disgusted and unsafe. This was on Sunday, they left and I have not heard from them. My parents told me that it was okay and they would deal with it but I did hear them talking to my brother on the phone about how I didn't understand how creepy it was so I assume they do think I did something wrong. Anyway please give me unfiltered responses, I am very confused and bothered by this and no one will explain it to me.
I'm an aspiring toymaker by trade and some years ago I came across a documentary called My Fake Baby.
I was fascinated by the detail and artistry of reborn baby dolls. Even considered having one to study.
I loved that the men and women who collect them, admit openly that they don't think they could handle a real child, but having a cute doll to snuggle fulfils them.
But of course.... I scroll down to the comments and breeders seem to hate these doll collecters as much as us.
"WhY NOt AdoPt???" "BabY CrAzY" "FrEakS!"
These breeders were outright disgusted in some cases. It was more than just finding a doll creepy, it was literally being threatened by someone loving a bit of vynal.
I just don't get it. If someone wants to call their doll, or plush, or pets their babies, what's the harm?
Breeders act like parenting entitles them to some god-tier respect, even if they aren't good parents at all.
Made me especially sad when one woman was infertal and she said she felt like she wasn't a real woman because of it. And her reborn doll was helping her heal.
Why can't assholes just shut the hell up and let other people be happy?
Mainly just posting here to ask if I'm justified in being horrified.
Husbands relationship with his ex can only be described as not serious/not really together and really creepy considering the age gap at the time. He regrets it, they have a child together, who we've only just been able to see the past 6 months as she changed her name, address, blocked us but sent us hate mail from anon accounts so she's had knowledge of us.
She's admitted to wanting what I have, she's asked for my husbands sperm, she's tried multiple times to take my baby from my arms, she tries to hug and hold her at every interval, she's said she wants to live with us, hopes people can see us as a sister wife deal, says my kids feel like they're her kids, wants to be there for any holiday we take, she's asked to have my newborn for a week when I have him. This has all been shut down, completely refused, mainly by husband as it catches me so off guard I'm like... Wtf she couldn't have just said that.
We've been meeting her with the child as we get to know him as we thiught that's the best way for him to know us but this was getting fucking insane so we asked to phase her out of our time with him.
It did not go well, her only reason was she didn't want to not be part of our lives, she felt left out, she wanted our kids to feel like her kids and we'd all 'share kids' so obviously we've started court proceedings.
Today we accidentally found out she's had a reborn doll of our daughter since about a month after meeting her. Husband was deleting old accounts and didn't realise his old insta was following her private account still.
My daughter has distinctive hair/eyes and a small facial birthmark. This doll has all of that, and looks just like her. She'd tagged the company, the company only make custom dolls from photographs. She's dressing the doll in clothes we have for my daughter, she sleeps with it, says she prefers it to her son.
Are we right to be fucking horrified? Is there anything we should do?
Tldr - husbands crazy ex has been trying to be part of our family and admitted to wanting to take my place. She also has custom ordered a reborn of my daughter she treats as a living baby. Anything we can do to feel less horrified?
My child died after only a month on this earth. I’m going to spare myself the tears on explaining how, but the tears of my wife are ones I’ll never forget.
Grief is ugly, it’s so fucking ugly. When we lost him, it sounded as if my wife was regurgitating fragments of her soul. Her wails could’ve shattered glass, curdled blood. The cries would turn to screams; screams at the universe, at whichever sick, twisted higher power would let this happen, at herself, at me. She’d scream until the skin of her throat shredded to ribbons.
I’ll be honest, I didn’t cry. I don’t remember if I even shed a tear. But not because I wasn’t upset, I didn’t cry because it felt like she was already doing it for me. No pain is more shared than a grieving mothers cry.
I wished there was a handbook on grief, a For Dummies, if you will. One that could’ve especially prepared me for the before and the after. Before, you’re just waiting, like you’re watching an hourglass of life on its last grain.
My heart is pumping while he flatlines, and it hits like a wave. I’m going to have to grieve, I thought to myself. Before I could even experience it, I thought about how it was coming right for me. And I knew that in the blink of an eye, life was going to be something that I’d have to fight for. Maybe I was already grieving him before he went, maybe I was prepared. Or I just thought I was, I don’t think you ever could be prepared.
Then, you reach the after. Not the moment you leave the hospital room, or even the drive home. It’s the moment you open that front door, the air sucked out of the room, and you feel that thorough fucking void; that void in your chest, in your relationship, in your home. This is it, this is my life now. This is real.
What hurt even more was that this new life wasn’t so foreign to me, it was one I had nearly a month ago. I felt so guilty for not grieving him but instead grieving for what he could’ve been. I grieved for the first birthday and dozens after it, the first steps, the graduations, I’d even trade a hormonal teen fight with him over this.
I couldn’t help but grieve the life he could’ve had instead of the one we lost. My wife felt differently; she missed their skin touching, humming to him, even dragging herself out of bed at 3am because he was crying again.
We never really discussed it, but we could just tell that we were grieving down two separate paths. Our backs were always turned in bed, she’d flinch when I’d touch her; it was as if she was aller
... keep reading on reddit ➡I know I’d paid for her to be able to make crying noises, but now she’s starting to babble full sentences, and I swear I heard her say “let me out”.
