Just an hour and a half until the 9 month mark. 9 months ago I was in labor. I was heartbroken and terrified of what was about to happen. How do you explain what it is like to labor with a child that has already died? You can't. It's beyond words. It's beyond explanation. It's just too much.
I remember early in the grief process devouring books and blogs looking for a timeline on when I would no longer want to die. I needed someone to simply say to me "just hang on for such and such amount of time, and you will survive". Nobody had the guts to put that timeline out there. I realize now because it is simply impossible. 9 months out I may function better on a daily basis, but 99% of that is purely faking it. A callous has started to form that allows the feeling to be held back for chunks of time so that I can act acceptably in public. As long as I can keep my beloved sunglasses on, that is!
Mothers Day came and left as quietly as possible in our home this year. We skipped mass for what could be the 1st Mothers Day ever. The kids gave me cards and hugs, and cautiously let me be. In the afternoon we went to the cemetery. While my husband and children quietly stood at CJ's grave, I simply wouldn't allow myself to engage. This reality was not one I was able to deal with, so I shut down. No tears, no words. I just glared at the earth that had yet to recover from being ripped open for my son. I could relate to that small patch of earth. Raw and unhealed. When we got home the girls kept suggesting dinner, which I just ignored. I think they eventually made themselves ramen. Great way to parent on a day meant to honor mother's, huh? My husband was no better. He alternated complaints of being tired or having a headache all day. Nothing better then receiving the ever so popular "whatever" response accompanied by a definitive unhappy expression when I even suggested we take a walk somewhere. The day simply sucked.
So 9 months out, things still hurt horribly. I'm learning to function, but tears are daily. I want to run away. As childish as that sounds, life is just too much. I would love to pack up and disappear from this life. To wake up somewhere warm (that will stay warm even in January) where the environment is healing. Where I can walk a beach at sunset and feel the ocean breeze against the tears on my cheeks. Even our vacation was a crazy whirlwind of a week. Anything to not stand still and remember. I need some time. Even if just a weekend. I desperately need some time away to stop running through this life in fast forward.
9 months sucks. I'm not beating myself up, I'm just being honest. For every other mom out there following me, I don't want to sugar coat this process. Maybe as I sit here and wait for the calendar to change to the 13th, I'll find an overwhelming feeling of peace or acceptance. Maybe as the tears fall some of the pain will be released. Or maybe I'll pour a glass of wine or allow myself a Xanax just to be able to catch my breath. However this crappy night plays out, tomorrow is another chance to find a few moments of peace. My crazy band of babyloss mommies will commiserate online with me until the early morning hours. It's a sisterhood that is my lifeline.
54 more minutes until the 13th. I can't believe it's only 54 min until 9 months...
I love you so much
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