It’s another sleepless night. The anxiety that our vacation time alone is coming to a close is kicking in. Being away from everyone and everything we know has been an escape from the harsh and hellish reality that has become our lives. The constant reminders aren’t everywhere here. And as much as I am looking forward to being with our Ontario family, the thought of landing face first into the brick wall of reality on Wednesday is weighing on me like a corpse.

I wrote on twitter last night that despite being in the happiest place on earth I still overwhelmingly heart sick. I am broken. I got a bunch of lovely and much appreciated replies that I am not broken and that time will heal all wounds. With all due respect to those people (whom I love and appreciate dearly), you have never lost a child. And I hope you never do. I hope no one ever has to feel this amount of pain and anguish. But until you know this pain you can’t possibly understand how broken I am. I really, truly am broken. No passage of time will ever make me hurt less. I may learn to live with it, but I will never ever hurt less for my daughter. She was, and remains, everything I ever wanted out of life. I am broken without her. Even a brother or sister will never replace her, nor will it ever heal my hurt for her loss.

As skeptical as I was (and remain) about this trip, the sunshine and anonymity has been good for me. The reminders are Constantly there, Everlee is always on my mind (just last night we went to Hooters, of all places, for dinner and our waitress was pregnant. I was anxious for her the entire time, wondering if she was ok being on her feet serving us. I hope her and her baby are happy and healthy). I’ve been able to breathe for awhile. Ive laughed without hating myself instantly, Ive gotten some sleep. But it can’t last forever. One last day awaits in the magic kingdom today, then tomorrow we head back north and back to our awaiting future, without Everlee.


3 thoughts on “Reality

  1. Im glad you have been able to laugh again, Everlee is always with you, right beside you, tucked directly into your heart where she will forever stay

  2. I understand feeling broken. It’s wonderful that you and your husband were able to get away. I can see how that would make things a little better, even if only for a few days.
    Whenever I see pregnant people, I want to warn them. But there’s no way to do that without looking crazy. My husband tells pregnant women to get tested for clotting disorders whenever he meets them. I wouldn’t want anyone else to ever experience what we have, but it’s still not easy to figure out the best way to spread awareness.

    • I know what you mean. Every time I see pregnant ladies now I just want to tell them to be careful, question everything and not to take anything for granted. But I don’t. I bite my tongue and try to be happy for them and secretly hope and pray nothing happens to them like happened to us. It’s so hard.

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