“As Long As I Live
You Will Live
As Long As I Live
You Will Be Remembered
As Long As I Live
You Will Be Loved…”

Author unknown

 

 

I haven’t written one of these kinds of posts in a while, so you’ll have to indulge me a little bit here. I need to get some feelings out because if I don’t, I think it will ultimately be bad for me.

I am sad. Today I realized it more than I have in a while. I guess because I am really good at distracting myself with work and with projects, I downplay my emotions and bottle them up into a nice secure package that I carry around with me. We are 5 months (almost 6) now into this thing called grief and theoretically, I should be handling myself better now. I guess, for all intents and purposes, on the outside, I am. But it’s not the outside that counts, it’s what is happening within me that matters.

On the inside, I still feel this tremendous hole. And every time I get my cycle now, I feel like my body is emptying itself out of all of my hopes and dreams. Every time I see a baby, regardless of the age or sex, I think of Jack. I think of how big he would be, what he would look like, what he would be doing. And you know the worst part? Because people don’t want to cause you pain, they quit asking you about your child. They don’t ask you about what you think they would look like or what you think they would be doing. You have to keep all of these thoughts bottled up in your head, for fear of sounding like you’re not “moving on” because you want to talk about it. I keep dreaming about screaming Jack’s name because I want everyone to hear it. I am so afraid he will be forgotten and discounted because he never got to come home (in the normal way).

My sleep cycle is so weird now, especially with these dreams. Most days, I feel like I am exhausted but then, when I go to lay down, I replay over and over in my head the weeks leading up to Jack being born. Wondering what I did wrong, what I shouldn’t have done. Even though I know it’s pointless and baseless to do it, I do it anyways. And when I sleep and I have these screaming dreams, I wake up out of breath, feeling like I was actually doing it. I don’t have normal, pleasant dreams anymore. My friends in college used to love hearing about my weird and funny dreams. Now, aside from this blog, I don’t share them with anyone.

I get so angry sometimes. Mad at myself, my body and my stupid blood! God I hate my blood! I get mad that people with crack addictions can pop out 12 kids, but we can’t have our baby. Why? Seriously life, Why? Where is the sense in that?

Seeing pregnant women makes me sad too. And this is not directed at my fellow BLM’s who have lost before, but at the women who are clueless and full of bliss. It makes me sad because I know that if I ever get pregnant again, it will be the scariest most nerve-wracking nine months of my life. I don’t know if I will be able to enjoy it at all. I feel like my womb is a scary place, a place not safe for a baby to grow…..

Well, I guess that’s enough of releasing of thoughts for tonight. Thanks for listening, even if you don’t totally understand. I appreciate it.

~EH

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