I thought about titling it "Due Dates" but couldn't really bring myself to do that...heck, it's taking some courage to face what tomorrow would've been, could've been, should've been, without losing my marbles.
On March 30th, the day I first saw the positive pregnancy test, the joy was astounding. I thought for sure this pregnancy would be the light in my life after the miscarriage in October of 2012. Dave was overwhelmed at the though, I in turn felt guilty, but really, I was most excited. Then came July 15th, 16th, and 17th....shoot, the next three weeks after that I hardly remember. I know I cried, I know I was an absent minded mom, and a terribly lonely person. When I say I was lonely, that is not because Dave wasn't right there, offering me love, support, and opportunities to laugh and enjoy life. I think I felt lonely in my grief. I understood Dave's perspective, didn't want to burden him with trying to make him understand my feelings of loss, therefore, pushing myself into a lonely corner.
The lonely corner was very, very lonesome and there was hardly a soul who willingly would've joined me there. However, I thought for sure I could hide there, mourn and throw a huge pity party until I felt like I was done. My friends tried to comfort me; only have either more information than they ever wanted thrown at them or being snapped at because I thought they asked the wrong questions. Overall any friend just wanted to know that I was "moving forward" or "getting better". Of course I am, I assured them. I was feeling so much better. Lies. Lies. Lies. They served a huge function though; the friends' fears were satiated and I was left alone.
Some how, some way, I began to realize that I couldn't hide in the corner much longer. Thus, I returned to my counselor, saw the apothecary, and began to try and find my way through the grief. My counselor has been supportive, gentle, and firm when necessary. She assured me that it was "F'ing hell" that I was going through. The apothecary very gently reminded me that she doesn't medicate for grief. Humph. I thought that was a GREAT choice, even if a small honest piece of me understood that I had to go through it with only the necessary medications on board. The grief has been as wide as the ocean and as small as a stream. I have bucked it up, I have fallen down...hard. I've screamed at my children in frustration and pain. I've craved assurances that I can cook, parent, love, support, and provide for my family. I have felt like I failed, my grief serving as a reminder of this. If only I could have done something better....if only....Eh, that "if only..." thinking gets me to the same place that asking "Why?" does: NOWHERE.
So, tomorrow on what should've been the 3rd greatest day of my life, I wonder if my son knows how much he has taught me from that great place in the clouds. I have learned to be compassionate toward all those who have lost loved ones too early. I have realized that just because I want something, it doesn't always happen just so. I miss my son. He was real. I know he was. He is loved, was loved from the moment I knew he was there, and will always be loved. I couldn't have done anything differently, I couldn't have changed the course of what happened, no matter what I feel or what my guilt says. The space between my breakdowns remains at about 2 weeks, but I'm sure that in time, they'll become father apart. By then I'll be okay, but in the mean time, I will soldier through it, one step at a time.
"when you carry a life
and it's there and
then gone, a part of
your soul dies forever"
~Casey Wiegand
Thank you for all of your support and understanding!
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