I keep thinking this will get easier. That one day the tears will stop. One day. Most days it's tolerable. Most days, I can handle the grief. And then, I look through photos of my daughter and my heart aches. The hot tears build up in the corners of my eyes. Blinking them away doesn't always work. Sometimes, they drop to my cheeks. Those tears sting my cheeks with a reminder that this pain, it will never go away. It will always be here taunting the back of my mind each day.
Each time I step out in public and see a little girl running around, I'm reminded mine will never do that. Each trip to the store is carefully mapped out to avoid the baby sections. If I don't stick to my plan you'll find me staring at baby clothes like a deer in your headlights late at night. We both are not supposed to be where we are but, here we are, stunned and scared. And then, I end up crying in public which, I have a rule against. (No ugly crying public, it helps Noone and, makes me feel worse)
When you have a baby, your brain changes but, when your baby dies, your brain doesn't switch back to how it was "before." I still see clothes and think "oh I need this for Adalynne" that thought is typically interrupted by the "uhhhh nevermind Heather, go get some kale and leave asap" thought. (Kale makes me feel better, don't judge)
Ugh, the holiday season is so hard. Well, really each day is hard. Today is just a lazy Thursday and it's hard to sit on the couch and not cry uncontrollably. I try to remember all my lines I tell myself during these days; she's free and whole, she's no longer in pain and suffering, this was our story, you must accept it. Sometimes, they don't work and I'm just angry and sad.
When those lines don't work, I resort to my next set of lines I tell myself.
Tomorrow will be better. Tomorrow, I'll be stronger. Today I can be weak, sad and hurt. Today, I'll miss her till I run out of tears and my head pounds from crying. But, tomorrow, tomorrow will be better.
Each time I step out in public and see a little girl running around, I'm reminded mine will never do that. Each trip to the store is carefully mapped out to avoid the baby sections. If I don't stick to my plan you'll find me staring at baby clothes like a deer in your headlights late at night. We both are not supposed to be where we are but, here we are, stunned and scared. And then, I end up crying in public which, I have a rule against. (No ugly crying public, it helps Noone and, makes me feel worse)
When you have a baby, your brain changes but, when your baby dies, your brain doesn't switch back to how it was "before." I still see clothes and think "oh I need this for Adalynne" that thought is typically interrupted by the "uhhhh nevermind Heather, go get some kale and leave asap" thought. (Kale makes me feel better, don't judge)
Ugh, the holiday season is so hard. Well, really each day is hard. Today is just a lazy Thursday and it's hard to sit on the couch and not cry uncontrollably. I try to remember all my lines I tell myself during these days; she's free and whole, she's no longer in pain and suffering, this was our story, you must accept it. Sometimes, they don't work and I'm just angry and sad.
When those lines don't work, I resort to my next set of lines I tell myself.
Tomorrow will be better. Tomorrow, I'll be stronger. Today I can be weak, sad and hurt. Today, I'll miss her till I run out of tears and my head pounds from crying. But, tomorrow, tomorrow will be better.
Much love to all of you beautiful souls. Hug your babies for me today. A big, huge, squishy hug.
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