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.

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?

Atrophy

I live by words. They are my comfort. Even though I have major difficulties speaking my mind and explaining my emotions, in my head it all makes sense. Mainly because I can assign words to the things happening in my heart. As long as I can do that, I can be comfortable with my emotions.

Right now, that is not happening.

I have no words for what is happening in my heart. I'm angry but sad. I'm empty but full of pain.I am open and exposed to what may happen in my soul. Words evade me no matter how hard I concentrate. I try to pick apart my feelings and still, I'm left empty handed. I am everything and nothing all at once.

I'm trying to watch stupid movies just to fill the space in my head and heart. Nothing is working. Nothing is helping. Nothing is healing.

Tomorrow some wonderful coworkers want to stop by to give me a card from work. While the idea of them coming to bring me comfort makes me feel loved, I am full of anxiety. My apartment is a mess. I can't stand and clean without being hit with cramps. Cramps are a reminder of what is no longer in my uterus. I look like a mess. I can hardly eat without being filled with guilt. (Why should I eat when my daughter will never eat?) The prospect of having to go outside fills me with fear and pain. I want nothing more than to welcome them into my apartment and have them to lean on and bask in their love. The panic that sets in has me picking up my phone to cancel multiple times.

The only beauty I can find in this week is that One- I am so very grateful for my living children. I am yet again amazed by their smiles, their beautiful eyes and blonde hair. Their voices bring me from the brink I've been teetering on for days. Their warm hugs and cuddles start to wake me up. Second- the way Gage has taken care of me, the way he has dedicated his days to me, has shown me how to fall in love with him all over again. I can see his love for me. I can feel his support. I don't walk this path alone. He is with me for every step, even if it's one step forward and two steps back. He knows how I feel without me having to communicate. He knows what my long and drawn out silences mean.

For now, I will allow myself to fall back into my hurricane of emotions. No words swirl around. Just raw, real emotions.