My Mask

The glue holding my mask firmly in place has gotten stronger over the last 10+ months.  Early on, my mask had a shelf life of minutes.  I could only keep it on in spurts and it fell off easily if I hit a bump, the wind blew in the wrong direction or the flood gates opened.  But over time, the glue has strengthened.  It takes a strong gust or a significant bump to completely knock my mask off.  It is getting to be fairly water resistant.  The problem with my mask however, is that wearing it is still just as exhausting as ever. 

The mask hides what I feel on the inside from the world but it doesn’t take away the pain I still feel every day.    That’s the problem with the mask.  It doesn’t keep me shielded from the hurt.  My heart still aches and every day I am forced to continue my life without the best part of it.  No mask will ever help me forget what I am missing.  It may help others feel better, but it doesn’t bring me any peace.

I’ve been finding that I keep my mask on so tight through the week so that I can make it through work and my daily routine that I try to repress the pain.  At work, I work I force myself to push through and I force my thoughts to other places when they wander.  I get through most days at work fairly well.  But slowly as the week progresses, the pit in my stomach grows and grows.  Saturdays generally are full of busy tasks to get myself out of the house and keep my mind busy as well.  But as Saturday continues, the glue holding the mask on wears thin.  And by Sunday, my mask is all but off.  Sundays are the worse day for me.  The reality of another week gone catches up with me, guilt sets in and I generally lose it enough to make up for the entire week.

This weekend the guilt has hit me hard.  I’ve forced myself to be so focused at work and busy at home that in the last week I visited the cemetery only twice.  I feel like I am continually forcing my thoughts to anything but Avery so that I get through each day.  I feel like I don’t think of her enough.  I feel like my mask is keeping me from remembering her.  I feel like a bad mom. 

How do you find a happy medium?  When I didn’t wear my mask, I wasn’t able to work, I didn’t leave the house, I didn’t function at all.  But now, my mask allows me to function but the guilt is tearing me up on the inside.  How do I function but not feel guilty?  I wish there were a GPS to help me navigate this road I am being forced down.  I’m not doing so well on my own. 

Comforted by Grief

It’s been 8 Months since we held her last.  It’s been 35 weeks since our lives felt whole and complete.  And we’ve spent the last 245 days being absolutely heartbroken.  I feel like in these last 8 months, time has stood still.  Yet it hasn’t.  Time is cruel and it continues to march us further and further away from the time we spent with Avery.    

In these last 8 months, I have found I focus on the time a lot.  In my head, I have a time clock running, counting how many weeks it’s been since I saw her sweet smile for the last time.  I am constantly thinking, “36 weeks ago today, we were being induced, tomorrow makes 36 weeks since she was born, Friday makes 36 weeks since we had our first night at home” and the clock continues as the days pass.

I replay the last night we had with her in my head, I know the times we woke up, the times we fed.  I know the last time I saw her breathing, peacefully asleep next to me.  I know the time I woke up, 30 minutes later to find her not OK.  I know the time they “called the code” in the hospital.  I know all the time that surrounded her life, yet since she left this world, the present time has stood still.

In the last 8 months, we’ve done a lot of things to try to run away from life.  We’ve traveled to the West Coast, Vegas, Chicago and Tennessee and yet, I only remember a few details from those trips.  I remember so many details of those 6 days we had with Avery yet I can barely remember what I did last week.  Time is passing me by and right now, I am content with that.  I am happy to be stuck in those 6 days.  They were the best days of my life. 

They say that time will help us to heal but in many ways, I am not sure I want to heal.  Being stuck where I am now, where my grief is raw and fresh helps me still feel close to Avery.  On days like today, where I can just lay in bed and cry all day, I feel an odd sense of calm.  I know this place well and I feel at home in it, it is familiar and I am comfortable here.  As much as it hurts, I know what to expect. 

Finding healing terrifies me.  While I know that no amount of time will ever heal us completely, I am still scared.  Logically, I know I will NEVER forget Avery and I will ALWAYS have her in my heart but leaving this place where the pain cuts deep is frightening.  This has been my life the past 8 months; this heartache is my new normal.  Anything outside of this is foreign to me and right now, I don’t want to leave my bubble. I am scared of losing her and losing our memories.  I know what to expect out of my current days, but what do days look like if I step out of this bubble.  More let downs? New heartache? Stepping outside of my grief bubble makes me vulnerable again and right now, I’m not sure I can expose myself life that again. 

I understand that one day I will need to leave this bubble.  I cannot hide from life in my grief forever.  However, today is not that day.  Today I hide and surround myself with my grief.  Today I find comfort in my overwhelming heartache because it helps me to feel close to her.  And today, I need to feel close to her. 

Strong by Day, Weak by Night

“Where you used to be, there is a hole in the world, which I find myself constantly walking around in the daytime, and falling in at night. I miss you like hell.”

I recently stumbled over this quote and it really resonated with me.  It sums up my life in only 32 words.  This week, I have actually made it into work 4 days in a row, a big step for me.  Most days, I get overwhelmed easily.  While I was on leave from work, not much was done at work.  I have A LOT to catch up on, which is good because it keep me busy throughout the day.  But each day, all day, no matter what I am doing, I have to consciously fight my feelings. 

Avery is constantly on the forefront of my mind but I am getting better at controlling when I let the deep feelings of loss and sadness get the best of me.  All day, I fight to keep these feelings at bay.  I am getting better at controlling my emotions.  I am getting better at not feeling guilty when I can make it through a day without being an emotional wreck.  I am learning to cope in a better way.  Even though I am better at getting through a work day, I am not able to fight it forever.  As soon as I leave the office and I get in the car to go home, all the feelings start to sink in-the loss, the sadness, the anger, the bitterness, the guilty.  By the time I make the last turn into my neighborhood, the tears are steadily rolling down my cheeks and I am exhausted; another day down, another night coming home to a quiet, baby-less house.  I try so hard to be strong all day, to be focused on my work but at the end of the day, I am not strong anymore.  I am falling to pieces all over again. 

It hurts.  I miss my daughter, I miss her like crazy. 

A future lost, a present full of anger and bitterness

And just like that, she’s been gone for 3 whole months and I am still full of questions, still waiting for answers, still full of a variety of emotions.

I’ve been dreading today.  It’s been a quarter of a year since she has been in Heaven, a whole trimester of pregnancy. I dread today because it brings back the memories of that day.  Memories I try to block out most days.  I remember every detail of that awful day like it just happened yesterday.  The details of that horrible day are permanently burned into my mind.  I can see it all so clear.  That day, that morning changed my life forever.  In an instant, I was a changed woman.

I went from a tired but ecstatic first time mom, figuring out the best techniques for breastfeeding and charting every feeding and diaper change to a grieving mom.  A mother who was just told her baby was gone, a mother who found out that the life she saw in the future, a life where she watched her baby girl take her first steps, say her first words, start school, go away to college, get married and have babies of her own was gone and never coming back.   A mother whose heart crumbled to a million pieces in that moment, pieces that will never be found, a heart that will never be complete again.  My life, our future, our little girl was gone just like that and we couldn’t do anything to change it.  We left the hospital in shock, completely lost. 

Surviving vs Living

I survived another month.  Yesterday wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be and I woke up this morning to a new day.  Maybe it was because I kept myself busy, that I kept myself from dwelling on the many emotions I was feeling, maybe I just blocked it all. Whatever the reason, I survived.

But today, I am down, really down.  I feel exhausted even though I slept for 9 hours last night.   Without my baby girl, I feel broken; I don’t feel whole or even relatively like any part of the old me.  I find myself just going through the motions of life in survival mode and yesterday made me realize this.  I am not actually living like but rather just getting through it. 

When Avery passed, I felt a need to live.  I realized how short life is and I didn’t want life to pass me by.  I told myself and my husband that we weren’t going to let excuses hold us back from things.  We were going to travel, do more things together, try different things, etc.  I am sorry to say that in the past 3 months, I haven’t lived at all.