Stupid Highligher

Is there no end to the days that highlight the loss of my babies?  It's like a big fucking neon marker on the calender, "Today, remember your babies are dead." "Today, remember you should be a Mom to more than one." "Today, remember that they are gone, forever." "Today, let's highlight your gaping wound." "Today, remember where you were last year and how your baby girl was smashing her skull into your pubic bone." "Today, remember that the man you love has been crushed too."

Screw you Calender Makers.

Father's Day is tomorrow.  It's easy for me to just gloss over my husband's pain, the fact that he is shattered too.  He is just so quiet in his pain while I rant and rave and scream mine to the world (odd how grief does this.  I'd never have exposed this much of my pain to anyone before this....).  But as this stupid day looms closer, I can feel him shutting down.  He gets quieter every day.  He doesn't smile as much.  I can see the joy draining from him.  And I can't do a damned thing.

I am a doer.  I want to fix it.  So I try to do things.  Anything to keep me busy, distract me, make me feel like I am doing something for someone else.

I can't do anything for my husband.  Nothing.

No footprint too small

"There is no foot too small that it cannot leave an imprint on this world."

This is what got me through a large, large chunk of my grief. ("got me through"?  Like it ends...?!?!)  It is what I cling to desperately with my bloody fingernails.  The death of my children would not be in vain.  I would do something in their honor.   They would affect the lives of others through me.


 I need to know that I am somewhere else because of my gut wrenching loss.  Somewhere I wouldn't have been if not for Liam and Riley.  I want to look at my life and say, "I am here, I am doing this because of them.  I know I would not be here if I had not had my babies."


It is vital that they leave a footprint.  They deserve a damned footprint!  They were too small to leave a big one, it is my job as their mother to really mash it in.  Make it a huge print.  Make someone somewhere feel it. Create a ripple effect.  DO SOMETHING!  Help some body, even if only one grief gripped Mommie.  Even if I never know about it.

I see these other loss mommies who have gone on to do big things because they lost a little baby perfection.  Corrine with her Rowan Tree Foundation, Misty with her Baby boards, Bambi with her endless advocacy, Finley's Footprints, Deb from AWG and the walk.  I feel that I have done nothing, nothing to better the lives of others in honor of my children.

I know I am doing things that I wouldn't otherwise, but such ridiculously stupid things.  I went to the Color Run.  No way in hell I would have done that before.  Playing mudd volleyball for the March of Dimes, joining playgroups, putting myself out there to be vulnerable even though someone is bound to squash me like a bug. ( excuse me while the panic sets in from this impending crush...)

I guess I'm realizing that I need people.  I spent many, many years giving people the big middle finger.  My tendency is toward isolated outcast even if that isn't my ideal life experience and no it doesn't make me particularly happy.

Riley and Liam have taught me that I need to need people (even if most of them are.....a stupid let down and some of them are just throwbacks not keepers).  This kneel-inducing experience have allowed me to accept help.  Even ask for it.  To let my heart be squishy and exposed and not give a damn. 

But is that enough??  That's freaking nothing.  They deserve so much more

Rainbow Babies

I have a new obsession.  Hopefully serving a greater purpose than just to distract me from my grief (like anything could truly distract from the bloody hole that just won't heal).

Babies.  A new baby.  A rainbow baby.  I've heard a subsequent pregnancy called a healing baby.  HA!  Right.  Riley was supposed to be that healing baby.  Her successful birth was supposed to help us get over the death of Little Liam.  To heal us.  There is NO such thing.

Yet, I'm still obsessed.  We were robbed. Twice.  This journey started right after Hunter turned 2.  He is almost 4!  A two year battle of awful.  The crazy thing: we have no trouble whatsoever conceiving (knock on wood, Hail Mary, yoga pose, throw salt over shoulder).  Yet.  2 years we have been waiting.

I have a huge "to-do" list of things I have to do before trying this completely insane journey again.  I must be on some sort of drug...  I've lost my freaking mind

At this moment the 2 things that scare me the most about a subsequent pregnancy.

1.  What the hell am I doing to my son??  What is 10 months of insane, crazy, out of this world anxiety going to do to him??  How can I find zen if only for him?  Can I fake it??  And if we lose the baby.....what is THAT going to do to my reason for life??

I know that if Hunter wasn't around, we would be jumping right back onto this crazy ride. 

2.  My supports.  I will lose the little support nest that we have been building.  All my Loss Mommies.  All my sisters in this land of horror.  Gone.

I know there is no way I would be able to be nicey, nice supportive if one of them was pregnant.  So.....  Just gone.....?  THat sucks.  Who is going to hold my hand as I freak out??  Who is going to read my crazy emails?

And yet, I want this.  Like a crazy woman, I want this.   Can I just be hospitalized and monitored the whole time?  Can someone just guarantee that the odds won't hate me for a third time???  That shit happens.  Statistics hate me. 

This is right.....right???

I'm feeling pretty insane these days.  Decision making is impossible.  I flip flop back and forth between the extreme extremes over any decision.  And I am not talking about stupid little decisions like paper or plastic or whether I should have a greasy burger or salad for lunch.

I go from firmly believing one extreme to firmly deciding on the other.  Yes, another pregancy ASAP to hella no I will never do this to my family again.  I want to close my "business" (and just...be a mom?) to I am going to hit it harder and make it more and more successful.  I hate myself, I am a piece of trash not worth the oxygen I breath to I am a decent mother and wife and can do it all.


I flip flop from day to day and sometimes in the same day multiple times.  It makes me feel so lost to not even know what I want.  My mind confuses me and makes everything more difficult.  Please Crazy Brain, give this lady a break.

Readers...?

The sad fact is that 6 months after Riley's death, I've run out of people to whine to.  People stop talking to you, they run out of sympathy, and you become that woman they know who complains about every facet of their lives constantly.  Is that really what I've become?

I don't actually WANT anyone to read this blog.   Well, no one who knows I am writing it.  I don't want another outlet to feel whiney (is whiney a word?); I feel whiney enough as it is. 

Whatever.

Someone Get Me Off This Hill.

HA!  Yep, broken again.  Damn the cyclical cycle.

Sometimes I feel that I am working so hard.  Pedaling, pedaling, pedaling..... But I never get anywhere.  I'm on a bike that only seems to work backwards.  I'm so tired of pedaling; my legs are sore.  I'm tired of not getting anywhere.

Maybe it would be different if it was just my grief.... But I feel like my whole life is work, work, work and no forward progress.  My job, my relationships, my personal growth.  Am I just flogging a dead horse into pulp with my endless attempts?  I'm tired.  I wonder how the horse is feeling.

Broken?

Am I broken?  Yes, I was broken, but am I now?  No.

Glued back together, absolutely.  Propped up, yep.  Unstable at times, sure.

But not totally broken