My Baby’s Death Made Me A Self-Centered Person And I Wouldn’t Have It Any Other Way


I used to pride myself on being the kind of person who would do anything for anyone.  I regularly put the needs and wants of others before my own.  I thought I was being such a nice person if I considered the people around me at the sake of ignoring myself.

When my daughter was stillborn, I changed.

Gone are my altruistic tendencies, and in their place is a penchant for cautious kindness.  I still want to do unto others, but not until I consider myself.

You might think this sounds selfish. It is, but selfish isn’t always a bad word. I’m simply engaging in the art of self-preservation.  Losing my daughter has shown me the fleeting and fragile nature of our existence.  

Her death has taught me that it is my responsibility to preserve the life I’ve been blessed with.

My first act of self-preservation occurred about an hour after we found out that Dorothy was gone.  I was being prepped to deliver her and I was asked about an epidural.  I didn’t hesitate.  I wanted it.  There was no doubt in that decision; I was already so broken and I worried that the pain of childbirth would completely destroy me.   This wasn’t about anyone else.  This was about me.

More moments like this would arise over the next few weeks.  In the thick, choking smog of early grief, my moments of clarity came from the decisions I made to put myself first.  Every time I thought of myself, it was like lifting a thin and filmy layer from the smog.  Thinking about myself was the only time I felt alive again.

After my daughter’s stillbirth, it was difficult to take care of myself.

Even though everyone was desperate to care for me, they were not taking any direction from me about what I needed or wanted.  Anytime I would push back against any support that didn’t feel right, the reply would be “You need to let us do this.”

So, I let them.  Not because I wanted to, but because it was the nice thing to do and I was a nice person.  It would be unkind of me to rebuke their love and care at a time when I so desperately needed to be loved and cared for.

Until one day, I decided to think of myself.  It happened while I was eating one of the many casseroles that had been dropped at our doorstep. A few bites into eating, I realized that I was tired of eating casseroles and soups.  I wanted a grilled cheese.

I felt guilty for even having the thought.  Someone had made this casserole for us and it would be ungrateful for me to waste it.  I lifted my fork for another bite and then I put it back down.  I wanted grilled cheese.  Why would I keep eating something I wasn’t hungry for when I knew what I was craving?  I went into the kitchen, made a grilled cheese, and I devoured it.  With each bite, I felt more and more fulfilled.  Making that sandwich was an act of self-care that had fed more than just my hunger.

Over the next weeks and months, more and more acts of self-care would exist.  Each time I took care of myself, I was working to preserve what was left of me after my loss.  I started to piece myself back together and each moment that I loved myself was another stitch keeping me intact.

There were times I worried that I was becoming completely self-absorbed.

I didn’t want it to appear that I had stopped thinking of others.  This was not the case at all.  I actually found my moments of kindness to be greater than before my loss.  Instead of scattered, unconscious acts of kindness, I was helping others in a more genuine manner.  I wasn’t helping for the sake of helping.  I was helping because I cared. 

Caring about myself gave me the ability to truly care for others again.

I observed myself being more deliberate in my actions towards others because it felt good to be helping them.  By making sure my needs had been met, I knew that I had what was needed to also take care of those around me.  If I wasn’t capable of being authentic then it wasn’t worth pursuing.  Pouring from a diminishing vessel wouldn’t offer much and it would leave me empty.

Putting myself first is not something I expect everyone to understand.

It goes against the culture of our society to think of yourself before you think of others.  But, losing my baby taught me that selfish isn’t always a bad word. I’m just trying to protect myself the best way that I know how.  Ultimately, I know that it’s very possible to lose those I love.  

I am my only guarantee in this life.

It has been over 2 years since Dorothy left my arms and the heartache has remained.  I will never stop hurting from losing my baby, but taking care of myself has allowed me to better carry my heartache.  Dorothy’s memory and her legacy live inside of me.  As long as I live, she will survive in this world.  I can think of no better reason for self-preservation.

Originally published on Still Standing Magazine

Photo by Emma Simpson on Unsplash

One thought on “My Baby’s Death Made Me A Self-Centered Person And I Wouldn’t Have It Any Other Way

Leave a Reply