Why today? Why is today so hard? There is nothing special about today… My heart is broken all over again. I am sobbing. I want my baby back. She was my baby, she was my child, she was my daughter. I want to see her grow I want to see her run. I want to see her live.
Why today? Why has this come crashing down on me now?
This weekend, on the advice of my psychologist, I went out of town to try and get back to some of the things that used to bring me joy. The political party that I am affiliated with was hosting a youth retreat (normally something I probably would have been helping to organize) about 2 hours outside of the city. I was extraordinarily anxious about going there and had made a number of arrangements to ensure that I would be able to escape if I needed to, including making Darcy go with me. But I knew that I would be surrounded by people who knew me, and my situation, and they would be nothing short of supportive in my first venture back into the real world. And they were. I thank them all so much for that.
It was harder than I expected. In a room where I would normally be in control and vocal, I found myself reserved and confused. And when everyone went out later in the night, I went back to the hotel. My thoughts wouldn’t organize. I couldn’t focus. My words were coming out jumbled. I was just completely off of my game. But I was there. And that was a huge step for me.
But what used to make me happy, what used to bring me alive and ignite passion in me and make me genuinely happy just gave me a little fizzle.
Happy. What a foreign concept.
I look at pictures of myself 6 months ago and it’s like looking at myself in an alternate universe. I wonder if I will ever be able to feel that way again? I wonder if I’ll ever be able to pull myself out of bed in the morning without bargaining with myself. I wonder if I’ll ever close my eyes at night and just sleep ever again.
You see, with a dead baby and subsequent infertility, I find it hard to get up in the morning (and go to sleep at night) without feeling like a universal reject. By which I mean, kicked to the curb by the actual Universe. Application denied. Not genetically qualified. Unacceptable to procreate. Unfit to parent. Move along.
I’m told I judge myself much more harshly than anyone else, and that may be true, but what if it’s the universe that’s judging me?
Why today? Why everyday? Because I miss her. And nothing will ever change that.