The past ten days have kicked my butt.
There’s not really a way to describe my grief, I can only tell you that it comes and goes. Usually it comes and goes over the course of days, but the past week or so it has come and go over the course of hours. Sometimes I’m okay, playing with the cats or laughing with Brandon, but the times I’m not are hard. There are the tiny, quiet tears that get cried when I’m thinking about the awful, beautiful 24 hours we spent at the hospital, and then there are the loud, painful cries that come when I fully think about what we lost. I just feel really really empty.
Everything we do right now just feels wrong. We're missing a person for all these families thing we're going to. We went to two movies this week, but we shouldn't be doing anything but staying at home because of the baby. I'm getting roughly nine straight hours of sleep every night when I should only be getting maybe two at a time. I read a whole book in one day when I shouldn't be having any time to do anything for myself. I don't want to do anything for myself. And I don't really care for Christmas right now either. I usually love Christmas, but this year I just want it to be over. All the things we had planned to do for the holiday we had planned to do with a baby. I'm ready for it all to be over.
I just have all this love that built up inside of me over the nine months, and now I have nowhere to direct it, no baby to give it to, so it's exploding out of me in anger, confusion, and sadness. I don't know what I did to deserve all this. Bad things happen to good people, I know that, but I can't help feel like I'm walking around with this target on my back waiting for more bad things to be hurled at me.
One of the worst things about all of this is that I just feel like I'm back to where I was eleven months ago. Eleven months ago we moved back to Utah, I started a new job, and we had been trying to get pregnant for six months. And now here I am, looking for a job, and hoping it doesn't take us six months to get pregnant again. It's like the last eleven months never even happened. The only evidence I have that I was ever pregnant is the line on my stomach that is quickly fading, and one lone stretch mark that I hope never goes away.
Today is not one of those days where I write out my feelings, then suck it up and try to have a good day. Today I don't want to.
I'm not writing this for sympathy, I'm writing it for others that have experienced a loss. It's okay to have good days, and it's okay to have super crappy days. Every emotion is important, every emotion is valid. Grief is just love with nowhere to go, so let yourself grieve, and let yourself love.