The pain is always there. Always. An incredibly, ridiculously deep, incapacitating hole that has been carved into me. It's always there.
Somehow I find ways to cover it up. To distract myself from it. Do stuff, stay busy, work, watch TV, listen to books. Anything that I can do to occupy my mind. It's getting substantially easier now to ignore the horror within me, but it never goes away. The river still flows right under the surface. Some days it still rages closer to the surface, harder to ignore.
As soon as I allow myself to look at the hole, to feel the sorrow, it takes me to my knees again and its like I just lost Riley and Liam yesterday. I am wracked with raw, hacking sobs; I am inconsolable.
It's hardest at night. When there is nothing to distract. My pillow is stained with tears and often I fall asleep with wet hair and pillow. Sleep meds are my best friend.
A newborn baby is the most powerful thing in the world. A stranger, she can rip through my callouses directly to that bloody hole and beat on my open wounds just by being carried around in a carseat.
And it's always there. Looming, Waiting for a weak moment. Waiting for me to let down my defenses. Waiting for my eyes to linger too long on a little girl or a baby or a pregnant woman. Ready to rip my to shreds yet again.