Tough Days

I was getting ready to go with Dan and Owen to Toddler Gym time this morning, when it hit me that four weeks ago, Elliott was still alive and we were about to hear his heartbeat for the last time -- a sound that, somehow, I had been taking for granted. How is that even possible, that the proof that your baby is alive can be "routine?" I should have taken more time to be grateful that he was alive every time we heard his racing heart.

The grief cycle is a horrible rollercoaster ride, one that has so many ups and downs and twists and turns. I've been hovering in the denial/anger part for a few days in a row now, and today, I'm back to sadness/yearning. I'm back to the "what ifs" and wondering how I didn't know something was wrong, and how I didn't know to do something to change the outcome. I'm in disbelief that this is really happening to us and that we don't have both of our boys with us right now.

There are so many times when I think about Elliott's death and it doesn't seem real. It seems like a horrible dream, one that I hope I wake up from every day. But there are so many reminders of how real he was -- the stretchmarks on my stomach, my different c-section scar, the little box of his ashes in the nursery, the charm necklace I wear every day in his memory, the ache of love in my heart for the son I only knew inside of me. And now that it's been 23 days since he was delivered, the dinners have stopped coming, the phone has stopped ringing, and visitors don't come by to check in anymore. Life is going on, and it seems almost like too much to have to keep up with. Like I said, most days are just normal days -- Owen needs to eat, play, sleep, have his diaper changed... But there are days like today, where I wish I could hide under the covers of my bed and stay there until the hurt is gone and we have a new baby to help heal the huge hole in my heart and soul. I can't ever replace Elliott, nor would I want to, but I so want to feel better again. I want to laugh and not feel guilty for it. I want to be hopeful not cynical and scared. I want to hear our babies cry and nurse them for health and comfort. I want to be so sleep deprived that I ask Dan if it's possible to die from it (true story). I want to be a mom to more babies.

For now, I just have to feel these emotions, be the elephant in the room, and learn to live through the tragedy of Elliott's death. I so wish I could change the end of the story, but I have to figure out how to accept that I can't. I miss him so much.