It's not an exaggeration to say my sweet husbandand I loved having newborns in the house. Those first few weeks when you protectively through extreme exhaustion spend countless hours rocking and pacing. We easily fell into a rhythm of taking over for the other and even caught ourselves reluctant to allow the other to take the sweet bundle from our arms. We would hear other new parents complain, and never understood how you would wish for those few precious wks to go by.
When your baby dies, your body does not understand the absence. You still bleed, your milk comes in, and your arms ache. Physically ache. I would wake up every few hours with a soaking wet bra begging God to stop being so cruel. Everyone around you wants you to begin to heal emotionally, but the reality is you just had a baby. The physical has to be dealt with along with the emotional.
With time, your body heals. Well meaning comments of how wonderful you look cut like a knife. Your child is slipping away even more, or so it seems.
Even more time has gone by and I started to realize how desperately I have physically punished myself. Extra weight, out of shape, overloaded in caffeine. I simply stopped caring. The very body that killed my son in my mind had became my enemy. And in turn, I didn't deserve anything less than punishment, neglect, and even hatred.
I'm cutting myself some slack. Our local YMCA is my new refuge. I am allowing myself the time I am in that building to put down the guilt, slowly begin to come to peace with where I am physically, and take the time to head in a new direction.
Besides... Only 9 months until our next big family celebration! 9 months.
Hmmmmm- how crazy is it that timing? I get it CJ. thanks for the nudge sweet boy!
#doitforcj
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