Dreams Last So Long, Even After You're Gone

Two Months.

I wish I had new words. New thoughts and emotions. Just to break the monotony of my grief.

Instead, everything is still the same.

Dear Elsa

Dear Sweet Baby

I would have been approximately 30 weeks w you today. I would be laying on my couch w my hand on my belly, feeling you move and stretch. I would have fantasized about you growing dark hair and chubby thighs. I would be envisioning you filling the carefully chosen outfits, already washed and folded for you.

Instead, those outfits are in a box w my maternity clothes. Shoved to the side so I don't have to look at them. You no longer reside in my belly, but in a white box. My hand doesn't caress my belly, but is held, clenched, at my side. I don't harbor day dreams, but nightmares.

I had to assist a woman getting formula today. Her son, no older than 1 month, was screaming. She completely ignored his hungry cries and walked w him in the store for 45 mins. That was the second longest 45 mins of my life (first being the time to confirm your death), hearing that precious soul being ignored for convenience. What I would give right now to hear you cry. Bc if you were crying, it would mean you were alive.

I received mail today from my insurance company. I read the first sentence: "We noticed you received pregnancy related coverage lately..." I became unglued. I felt sick. I was losing air. I was filled to the brim of that suffocatingly sharp pain. I was ambushed. I wanted to scream. The throw everything around and rip my hair off. But I didn't. I pushed it down. Pushed it away. To the Deal-With-Later section.

But I'm not pushing you away, Elsa. I think of you everyday. Before I come out of the fogs of sleep. Just as I'm laying down. When I see a woman full w child. When I walk past a sleeping newborn. As the wind blows and plays w my hair. When the sun kisses my cheeks. You are everywhere. You aren't in my womb anymore, but you are always by me. Always reminding me to not sass the customer and that life is still beautiful.

I love you Elsa May. One day I will celebrate your life. I'm still submerged in my grief and pain, but I won't be forever.

Being Buried Quite Alive Now

Tomorrow will mark a month since we found out that Elsa passed. The 14th is a month since I delivered her sleeping.

In a month I have aged 20 years. In a month I learned to permanently shelve dreams and hopes. In a month I learned how to put on a mask to survive Life. In a month I have mastered how to stand in this hurricane of rage and sorrow, while watching the world carry on without my baby.

One month ago I learned how to say hello and goodbye to a baby I loved. One month ago I felt myself rip into pieces and burned by my grief. One month ago I wondered how I was going to breathe and stay alive when everything in me screamed for death.

Today I still wish to hold my baby in my dreams. I still pray to see her while I sleep so that I know her existence was real. I still am filled w grief and pain. I still have moments where everything is drowned out by tears and longing. I still can't look at babies for more than a fleeting glimpse. I definitely can't hear babies crying when my own baby made no sound as she entered this world.

I seek to fill my voids with the fleeting company of people I love. But I can't let them linger too long bc then I will want to open up. And to open up would mean to cry.

I try not to label myself by the misery I experience, but that is all that fills me. "It gets easier..." What they left out is that carrying the pain gets easier, not experiencing the pain. There are days that I feel like I'm being buried under the weight of my emotions.

I will spend Elsa's One-Month-Birthday outside. Where I will feel her gentle spirit in the breeze. Where I will feel her touch in the rays of sunshine. Where I will feel her little embrace in the grass.

Burst Apart

Someone told me that Elsa was in a "better place with God." That line, out of the many I have heard, pissed me off.

I know, words are hard to come by when faced w another person's grief. I'm also not an atheist but neither am I Christian. Somewhere in between.

To be told that my baby is in a better place is a slap in the face. What better place is there but in your mommy's arms, surrounded by people who love you? Why did I not deserve to hold my beautiful Elsa? What gives God/Jesus/Whoever more of a right to "have" her than me? In my eyes, no one.

She was my (and Gage's) baby. She was a baby that I grew inside of me. I gave her my blood. Nothing will ever feel the void in me and it is insulting to hear someone state a fact that she is in a "better" place.

Late last week, a customer asked me about my belly and when I was due. The first time he asked about my pregnancy (I was wearing a sweater covering my midsection), I tried to ignore it. He kept going and finally I had to walk away. The panic attack came rolling in my chest. I couldn't breathe. All I knew was pain. It felt like i was hearing the ultrasound technician say "I'm so sorry, there is no heart beat." I was thrust back to May 13th.

A few days before then, a customer came in with a tiny little baby. So perfectly newborn and precious. I enjoyed looking at her and felt happiness. Then I grabbed one of her little feet. That was my undoing. I remembered suddenly that I won't be holding Elsa's feet. That I wont ever get to enjoy her soft snuggles and beautiful coos. Instead I'm left w a small container of ashes. It feels like my heart was w her when she was cremated.

I can enjoy my days. I allow myself to be distracted in the flow of life. I have began to master carrying the weight of my grief. I don't look the part of a mother who has had to say hello and goodbye in the same breath. In this moment, the anger I have to people's well meaning words, though irrational, is cathartic in a sense.

I Will Never Rest

17 days after.

Its a bad night.

The emptiness aches. My heart feels shattered. My tears hot and burning acid trails down my face. Breathing is a struggle.

Carries On

Work went so well and beautiful today. It could not have gone any smoother.

Before I left, I was finishing up training my back up for September (when I was supposed to go on maternity leave). I was worried about my team being able to handle my absence. They managed to do the bookwork daily and I was left w minimal work to catch up on. I plan on recognizing all of them soon for their excellent work.

My coworkers gave me exactly what I needed today. They didn't focus on Elsa's death. They didn't ask for details. They hugged me and that was that. Asked me how I was doing and that they were glad I was back. A few tears were shed when discussing if we will be trying again. That was only due to it being a reminder of how empty I still feel.

I am still emotionally exhausted. I'm worn thin and just so tired of my emotions. I know them inside and out. Every thought and every aching emotion. I ache for my baby and ache for what was taken from me. I am never allowed a moment to forget what happened two weeks ago. Even getting dressed for work is a battle.

Returning to work allowed a distraction. My brain welcomes the busy work. I'm able to focus on mundane things that don't hurt and don't matter. And I've found that I don't care what my coworkers feel towards me. In losing my daughter, I've realized that these petty and trivial issues that arise at work are meaningless in life. I don't have my usual filter and muzzle in place. Its refreshing. Perhaps that's what my work life needs, a dash of the "real" Amber.

Seven Devils All Around You

I am filled w a silent rage. A rage that bubbles up from the quiet depths of my soul. I want nothing more than to pull everything down on top of me. Bring everything down to my layers of grief and hell.

Why? Why me? am I not a good person? Have I not helped and brought countless humans to their feet? Given love and assistance when I knew I wouldn't receive a damn thing in return? Helped multi single mothers get a chance at a job, given them a chance when no one else would?

Why does my life constantly kick me in my very heart? When I finally feel secure in my life and future, trap door after trap door opens underneath my feet. How much more must I endure before the Universe decides I've dealt with enough pain and sorrow? Why must I constantly be tested? Have I not proven that I'm strong?

I haven't forgotten where I started. I haven't forgotten the path I chose for myself that only ended in betrayal and abuse. I haven't forgotten the times where if i just asked for help, I would have been spared much pain. I haven't forgotten the thousands of hot and wild tears that I have shed.

I don't want to give up. Only to give in. Give in to the years of struggling and years of pain. Give in to the ocean of misery. Let the tides of guilt, pain, and suffering wash over my tired soul. Just so that I might dissolve away and have a moment of peace.

I have lost my fight. I have lost my will and what sparked my passions. I am a husk, empty and hollow. I am nothing of what I used to be. The pieces lay across my 25 year long life. They are either lost amongst the wreckage of my hopes, buried beneath cities of disappointment, or crushed by the foot of sorrow. What is left of me but this aching grief?