darkness
nothing can describe this loss. and to know that it was just a 'fluke'. how can death be a fluke? i want answers. i want to understand. some times my grief is manageable but then that changes. walking past the nursery and knowing that our little girl will never be in there haunts me. i did a load of wash today and out of the dryer i pulled out a pair of toddler overalls. every where i turn are memories of Jorai.
the hospital gave us a little keepsake box with her clothes and a plaster of her foot prints. i placed her foot prints on my hope chest today along with a picture of her because i was already forgetting what she looked like, how can that be? how can i already forget what our daughter looked like? when i see her lying there all i want is to understand. i want to know why. i want this pain to stop. steve and i were so happy on friday. so hopeful and excited of what the future would bring and now i'm terrified. i feel like i'm rotting from the inside out. at times i'm terrified about what will happen if we get pregnant again. can we do this again? can we go through this?
i want desperately to hold onto something. i want answers and not know that it was just a fluke. i want someone to say i lifted something too heavy or ate something wrong, i took the wrong medicine. anything. but to know it was just a fluke and that it 'probably' won't happen again, is too hard to comprehend. i want to scream right now. this day went relatively well, until about an hour ago. and then the darkness fell again. i know it has only been 3 days but i want to feel like me again. is that wrong? am i asking to heal to quick. i don't want to forget. not ever. but i want to see the goodness again. i want to feel the warmth on my face. all i feel is cold. in 13 minutes she would have been 3 days old. this haunts me. i know when i die we'll be together again, and although this comforts me, i want to be selfish. i don't want to wait. i want our daughter with us.
i'm a mother without a child. my breasts are engorged with milk and i have no one to feed. steve's a father without his little girl to teach and laugh with. he would have been such an amazing father. we're parents to no one.
the hospital gave us a little keepsake box with her clothes and a plaster of her foot prints. i placed her foot prints on my hope chest today along with a picture of her because i was already forgetting what she looked like, how can that be? how can i already forget what our daughter looked like? when i see her lying there all i want is to understand. i want to know why. i want this pain to stop. steve and i were so happy on friday. so hopeful and excited of what the future would bring and now i'm terrified. i feel like i'm rotting from the inside out. at times i'm terrified about what will happen if we get pregnant again. can we do this again? can we go through this?
i want desperately to hold onto something. i want answers and not know that it was just a fluke. i want someone to say i lifted something too heavy or ate something wrong, i took the wrong medicine. anything. but to know it was just a fluke and that it 'probably' won't happen again, is too hard to comprehend. i want to scream right now. this day went relatively well, until about an hour ago. and then the darkness fell again. i know it has only been 3 days but i want to feel like me again. is that wrong? am i asking to heal to quick. i don't want to forget. not ever. but i want to see the goodness again. i want to feel the warmth on my face. all i feel is cold. in 13 minutes she would have been 3 days old. this haunts me. i know when i die we'll be together again, and although this comforts me, i want to be selfish. i don't want to wait. i want our daughter with us.
i'm a mother without a child. my breasts are engorged with milk and i have no one to feed. steve's a father without his little girl to teach and laugh with. he would have been such an amazing father. we're parents to no one.
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