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Wednesday, June 30, 2010

June 30, 2010

This morning I woke up a little bit more early than usual. I sit in my bed for a little while, watching the news and then I crawled out of bed and went to take a shower and get my day started. Yesterday was a more difficult day, but I worked hard to make it a gentle one.
It seems that on every really difficult day, something happens to make it more bearable. Some little thing, that I always view as a gift from my daughter. Yesterday, when I missed her the most, the phone rang. I ignored it. When the light began to flash, indicating a message, I decided to see who it was. The message brought my ray of light. My little gift.
The message was from the photographer from Now I Lay Me Down To Sleep. He had our pictures. Not just the CD with the pictures, but a DVD and ten 8x10 printed photographs that the photographer himself picked out. He wanted to know if he could come by the next morning (today) and drop them off. I called him back quickly. I didn't want to miss him, or my chance to get the pictures as soon as possible.
I woke up a lot last night. I was excited to see my daughter. To see our only family pictures.
I sat, showered, dressed and waiting for the phone to ring this morning. The call came right around 9am and the photographer told me he would be by in an hour. I counted down the minutes.
When the photographer finally arrived, I was outside waiting for him. Partially because I didn't want my dog to scare him and partially because I just couldn't wait the extra 2 minutes it may take him to walk into the house. He seemed to be in a bit of a hurry anyway, so it worked out well for both of us.
The second he left I ran inside to look at the pictures. I took some time to myself, I went through each picture and I cried. They are so beautiful. Alexandra looks so beautiful. She looks just like Steve. I knew she would and she did. Her perfect little nose, that sweet little nose that I got to see for such a short time.
I waited for Steve to come home and take some time for himself to go over the pictures before I would post here. The reason for waiting? I am going to share with you all, the pictures of our family. The pictures of one of the hardest days of our lives, the day we buried our little girl.
I will not warn anyone to look away and I will not apologize to anyone that may be offended by my daughter's pictures. I invite you all to see Alexandra.

Tuesday, June 29, 2010

Help Me, Help You

On Sunday it was the anniversary of the day we found out that Alexandra had passed away. I knew it would be a hard day so I decided to do only gentle things. One of those things was to make some pictures for a few loss moms that I have connected with. I haven't posted the pictures because I never thought to ask for permission and those pictures are private. I have spoken to one woman and she told me that I could post the picture I made for her daughter. Her daughter's name is also Alexandra.
I am not a photographer, so obviously the pictures aren't as perfect as some, but making them makes me feel a sense of peace. Knowing that the feeling I get seeing that someone has taken the time to do something with my daughter's name is being passed on through something I am doing.
That's why I would like to make some more pictures today. So, if someone reading this wants their child's name done, please comment and I will take the picture.
And for everyone that does, thank you for helping me by letting me spend some time doing something for your child.

June 29th, 2010

This day marks the two month anniversary of the day I gave birth to Alexandra. The thought was right there in my mind when I woke up. I wonder if making plans for today was a good idea...Should I have just made today a day to stay home and keep to myself? I just don't know.
This doesn't fit with my feelings for today, but so many people have reached out with such kindness about Alexandra's grave that I wanted to give an update.
 Late yesterday afternoon the grounds supervisor called me. He was kind and empathetic. He apologized profusely. He explained that the people that dug the other child's grave should not have piled the dirt on top of Alexandra's. There was no child buried in the spot directly between Alexandra's and the other child's and there was no one buried on the other side for the entire row. He said that it is possible that they did it so that the weight of the new dirt would push the old dirt down more. He also told me that we can't know for sure, but it is possible that the weight pushed Alexandra's rosary into her own grave further and so it's just buried in there. We will never know and we will never see that rosary again, but it does take a little bit of the sting away to know that she may still have her rosary. Steve felt that this may be possible, but he seems more sure that the rosary is in the other grave. It doesn't really matter though, it's gone no matter what and that is what hurts the most.
The conversation I had with this man was exactly what I had expected when I had called the cemetery in the morning. He apologized, he asked questions for clarification, he explained that he's sure they didn't mean for this to happen, they must not have noticed the rosary. He told me that he was going to make sure that everyone there knows that this cannot happen again, they have to be more diligent about checking the tops of graves if they have to pile dirt on them. He was polite and understanding and explained things to me in a gentle way. He told me that neither he nor his staff want to add to anyone's grief and they are all very sorry that this happened.
We can't get the rosary back, we can't take the shock we felt when we discovered this away, I can't wipe my memory of how that woman spoke to me yesterday. We CAN understand that accidents happen and sometimes people make mistakes. We got what we wanted, an apology, an explanation, a promise that this will not happen again, and most importantly, a sympathetic ear, to hear us and understand how much this has hurt us.
I am still waiting for the city to call. I have not forgotten how I was treated, and I will not forget. The woman that I spoke with yesterday morning needs to, at the very minimum, be reprimanded. I don't think she should keep her job. I don't think she should be allowed to work around people that have suffered a loss. She clearly is not able to show any empathy to grieving families and that should be considered a fundamental part of her job.

Monday, June 28, 2010

June 28th, 2010

The first though on my mind when I woke up this morning was to call the cemetery. I waited until Dayne was awake, settled and watching a good show, so he wouldn't disrupt the call. My expectations were simple. I expected the person on the other end of the phone to apologize. I expected some sort of excuse "Oh, there was two different shifts that did the digging and filling..." or "This was a horrible mistake, our workers must have missed the huge rosary sitting directly on top of the grave" You know, something that I wouldn't accept as a GOOD excuse, but something. I also expected that they would tell me that they would, of course, make sure that something like this didn't happen again, they would make sure that the people responsible for this were informed of what they did, how it impacted my family and made to understand that this was something that WOULD never happen again.
It was for this reason that I started out calm in my explanation of what happened. The response I got from the woman on the phone was not calm in return. I did not get my expected apology on behalf of the cemetery staff, I did not get my promise that this would never happen again, I did not get an excuse or explanation of what may have happened. Instead, the woman on the phone gave me attitude, treated me like an idiot and was completely flippant about the entire situation.
Her first response, before I was even finished explaining my problem was to tell me that I was assuming this was what happened to my daughter's grave, that I didn't know for sure. Even though everyone else I have spoken to (including two different people from the city) agree that it's obvious that my daughter's rosary was buried in another grave. I could have accepted her statement, it was one that had fluttered through my head as a possible excuse, but I quickly dismissed it because of how obvious it was that what I was saying was the truth and not an assumption. My refusal to accept and politely counter her assertion that I was just some idiot that didn't know what she was talking about came from the attitude that the woman on the phone had.
She was horrible. Not only did she have this disrespectful attitude with me right off the bat, but she continuously cut me off while I was trying to speak, she refused to acknowledge that the staff there could have done anything wrong. When I tried to tell her that there was empty spots all around my daughters grave, where they could have piled the dirt, she told me that I didn't know that, saying "Not everyone can afford a headstone you know!" Yeah,  know that you idiot. I told her that when we paid for the plot we were told that there were no other children buried on either side of our daughter and none had been buried there until this one. She said nothing in response to that.
I carried on to tell her that the people had removed my daughter's pin wheel and stuffed animals and tossed them above her grave carelessly. She cut me off again to say "It doesn't matter because you're not even supposed to have stuffed animals there!" I was dumbfounded. I thought that she must be thinking of some other area of the cemetery. I clarified "There are stuffed animals at all the graves in the children's area" to which she replied "Yeah, because we know what people are going through, but it's illegal, there are bylaws you know!"
I would like to point out that, when I called the city to lodge a complaint against her, I was informed that there is no such bylaw.
At one point in the conversation I said "We just lost our daughter and now we have to deal with this, don't you people understand how important these things at her grave are?" she responded that she knew exactly how I felt because she lost a child last year. I could not hold my tongue. I did not believe her, if that was true, she would not be treating me like this, she just wouldn't. So I responded asking "Oh yeah? Did someone desecrate YOUR child's grave?" She told me that no one had desecrated MY child's grave. I disagree. The definition of desecrate is to violate the sacredness of something. I would say that is exactly what they did to my daughter's resting place.
The woman at the cemetery kept me on the phone for 15-20 minutes with nothing but cruelty the entire time. I was hysterical when I got off the phone. I called Steve at work, crying uncontrollably. He told me to take a few minutes to calm down and  call the city and lodge a complaint, and I did. I hope she loses her job.
I also contacted the media. That cemetery doesn't want to deal with one grieving family kindly, they will deal with the general public, and I guarantee they will be far less forgiving than we are.
I am currently waiting for the outdoor staff supervisor of the cemetery to call me. I'm also waiting for someone from the city to call me back. It's horrible that after everything we have gone through we are not considering looking into digging up our daughter and moving her somewhere else. Away from my grandfather, away from the area where I have connected with her since just a few days after she was born. Somewhere new, where she will be alone. And it's not fair. I will have to relive that whole time and it is breaking my heart.

Sunday, June 27, 2010


Today Dayne and I had a peaceful day. We played in the yard and I used my painted rocks to make some pictures for some other Angel moms. It made me feel very calm.
I waited for Steve to arrive home so that we could go to the cemetery and when he arrived, Dayne and I were outside waiting. As I type this, I am trying to remember what we talked about on the way there. The memory has escaped. Instead, it's place has been taken over by what we discovered when we arrived at the cemetery.
As we pulled up Steve pointed out that another child had been buried beside Alexandra. A wave of sadness swept over me. That poor little baby. As we got closer we noticed that the mound of dirt over Alexandra's grave was bigger and we questioned why. As I walked up to her grave I noticed dirty stuffed animals thrown on the cement area where a headstone should be and I thought I must be walking up to the wrong grave.
I wasn't.
It was in the moment that I realized that someone had thrown my daughters stuffed animals and pin wheel up there that Steve noticed something far worse. His words were choked out, "Where's the rosary? Where's Alexandra's Rosary?" I felt my head snap quickly towards the mound of dirt and he was right, it was gone.
The realization washed over us that the people that worked at the cemetery had done all of this. It became obvious that when they dug the plot beside Alexandra's, they had removed her toys and tossed them aside and they had piled the dirt on top of my daughter's grave. This realization led to the understanding that this meant that when they filled in that grave, they pushed our daughter's rosary into it.
My brain shut down. I sat down and started pushing the dirt aside at the top of her grave to put her toys back where they belonged. It was all I could do. I'm terrified of bugs, I noticed the ants and the spiders crawling in the dirt, and on my hands as I moved the dirt, but my hands didn't stop, I was on auto pilot. When I finished putting the toys back I became aware of my surroundings again and I noticed Steve...He was digging frantically. He was wearing white work gloves and he was pushing aside all the dirt. Searching desperately for the rosary that we had lovingly chosen on the same day we picked her last outfit, her last teddy bear, her last everything.
But he wouldn't find the rosary, because the rosary is buried in someone else's grave now, and the cemetery is not going to go digging there looking for it. It's just gone.
Steve is furious. I am furious.
How could someone be so disrespectful to us? To our daughter? Don't they care? What is WRONG with these people? That last question, that is the one that keeps going through my head. WHAT is WRONG with these people? Have they no hearts? Forget their hearts, have they no BRAINS?
When we arrived back at home I cried. I was numb at the cemetery, and then furious, and then the sadness hit, like a punch in the gut. And I cried.
When I was done crying, I called the city's 24 hour line and I lodged a complaint. Tomorrow I will call the cemetery and lodge a complaint with them. They can't get my my daughter's rosary back, they can't make me feel better, but they WILL know what they have done and how they have hurt us. And they will NOT do this again to another family. They will understand, when I am done with them, that what has happened is disrespectful, cold hearted and terrible and it cannot happen again. And they will understand how important that rosary was to us and how they can never replace it.

I understand that I have glossed over the fact that another child as passed away. I feel horribly for this child's family and I hope that they find peace. I have no real words for how sad I am to see that another child has joined my daughter.

June 27th, 2010

Two months ago today we were sitting in the labor and delivery while they searched for our daughters heart beat.
Two months ago today they told us that our daughter was gone.
Two months ago today my family was broken.

An angel opened the book of life
and wrote down my baby's birth.
Then she whispered as she closed the book
"too beautiful for earth".
~author unknown

Saturday, June 26, 2010

A Step In The Right Direction

We have a park by our house. Right across the street actually. We call it the "ice cream park" because the park has a little area that is made to look like an ice cream stand. The park being there was a big reason why I fell in love with this house. Dayne loves the park and asks to go there almost every day.
Yesterday we were playing at the park and Dayne was looking at the pebbles and started to talk about Alexandra's pictures. He likes to look at the pictures that we get for her, with her name. He remembered the picture of Alexandra's treasure bean and asked if these were the same kind of rocks. They're pretty small, so I told him that they probably weren't. At that time Dayne had one of his brilliant moments. I notice that sometimes when a child says something, it's exactly what you were thinking, only more to the point. Sometimes when children have ideas, they are the most perfect ideas. Sometimes Dayne has the thoughts and ideas...I'd like to say that he often does, he's at an age where he his understanding of most complicated things is more abstract.
Dayne asked me if we could make a picture with the rocks for Alexandra. His idea was so sweet, so I built on it and asked him if he'd like to paint some of the rocks and use them to spell out her name on the park. He was immediately excited, his idea AND painting, how could you go wrong?
So, we decided that's what we would do, but first, we needed paint.
The dollar store has a ton of different colors of paint, and different kinds too. The issue with this is that this store is in an area that I have not been able to walk to or from since we lost Alexandra. The Thursday before we found that Alexandra had passed away, one week before she was born, I had taken that walk. My last walk with her. The last time we were alone together.
But Dayne was so excited and he wanted to do something for his sister. He wanted her to be with him at his park and I couldn't not do it and I couldn't make him wait until someone else could take him. I HAD to go. And somehow, taking that walk again, with Dayne, to do something for Alexandra just felt right. So I did it.
As we walked, I concentrated on Dayne. On our conversation. We talked about how he could hear the water running in the sewer, he asked if the whole world could flood which led to me telling him about Noah's Ark, which led to a lot of questions and talk about God and why Dayne thinks he's invisible and has super powers to see everyone in the world. I learned a lot from Dayne during that walk.
At the store we picked our paint and a few other things and we made our way back home. The walk home was similar to the walk there but with less conversation. Dayne had gotten a "lightsaber" that made noise, so he ran ahead swinging it around telling me that he was saving me from the bad guys. He told me that I could be the beautiful princess and he was protecting me. It was a nice walk and I didn't cry.
When we got home I was proud. I called Steve at work to tell him and he said "I guess you were ready" As I told him, I cried a little bit. It's one of those things...I'm happy that I did it. I'm happy that I found the strength and that the strength came form Dayne AND Alexandra. I'm happy that I took that walk for such a good reason.
But I'm sad. I don't want to let go of any of my memories of Alexandra and I feel like, by taking these steps forward, I am letting go of her. I don't want to let go of her. It isn't logical, I know it's not. I know that she will always be with me, the memories will always be with me and one new memory won't cancel out an old one, but the thought is still there. A tiny little cloud. It's a step though, the first tiny little step.
Oh, and if you're wondering about our little project, we painted the rocks. More accurately, I painted the rocks while Dayne painted a beautiful picture for Daddy. We waited for them to dry over night and today, after we finished up all our other daily things we went over to the park, when no one was there and took some pictures. I would have liked to spend a bit more time, but we had to hurry because kids come and go a lot and we didn't want them to get in the pictures or anything! Of course, I have a million more ideas for these painted rocks and my daughters name, so there will be many more pictures.

Friday, June 25, 2010

I wonder...

This is a slew of things that I frequently wonder about these days.

I wonder why some people only come around when something really horrible happens. Not those people that come out of the woodwork and end up being really wonderful friends you didn't know you had, but those other people. The ones that would choose to have nothing to do with you if things were great and happy and wonderful, but pop up to use your tragedy to gain attention for themselves. I don't only wonder WHY these people do this, but also what is WRONG with them? Why are they in such need of attention that they are willing to take advantage of a person that has just suffered through something unthinkable? And I also wonder what they think *I* think when they vanish after the initial horror goes away and people stop thinking about poor Melissa and her unfortunate situation.

I wonder why people refer to my life now as a "situation" what has happened isn't my "situation" it's my life. What I am going through isn't a horrendous situation that will pass in time. Calling something a this really seems to dehumanize Alexandra...something that takes away from her memory. Something that takes away from who she was and who she would have been...and who she is now. "Oh, Melissa, yes, what a terrible situation she's in" Hm. I wish people wouldn't say that. Something unthinkable happened. That unthinkable thing is that I lost my daughter. My daughter is not a situation, she was a living baby. My daughter is Alexandra. "Oh, Melissa, yes, it's terrible what happened to Alexandra." See how that changes things?

I wonder if people think I'm rude when I ignore them. Yesterday I took Dayne to the park. A boy from his soccer team was there. The boy's mom has a little girl who is a few months old. I can't be around this woman when she is holding her daughter. Yesterday we noticed each other at the same time, she was about to say hello, but my eyes had moved to the baby in her arms and I immediately walked away. It was too hard. I don't mean to be rude. In those moments I have to make a decision. This woman doesn't know what has gone on in my life, she doesn't know about Alexandra. These are things you don't really discuss with strangers. It would look ridiculous if I ended up trying to hold back tears while talking to her. I would be forced to explain and, in person, I can't do it yet.

I wonder when things will stop being "too hard" So much stuff in my life these days is too hard. The thought of doing certain things sends me into fits of anxiety. I just can't handle much of my life lately, and I wonder when it will get better, when it will get easier. People keep saying that I have to just do things, just get out there and the pain will pass.  The anxiety though, I don't think they realize, it's debilitating. I wonder if this is normal...

I wonder when the tears will come less frequently. I cry easily and this is something that keeps me from doing a lot of things outside my home. If something triggers my sadness while I'm out, what am I to do? I don't dare cry in front of people, let alone complete strangers.

I wonder if my hormones are back to normal. I feel like they can't be because every day is still a roller coaster of emotions and surely this can't be how my life is just going to be from now on. How can that be?

I wonder many more things, but I will write one more and then leave it at that for today.

I wonder if anyone else is feeling just the same way that I am, right this minute.

Thursday, June 24, 2010

The Way The Mind Works

I'm generally a fairly analytical person. A lot of people have described me this way in the past and, while I'm sure some meant it as an insult, I always thought it was a good thing. I think it's this part of my personality that has been causing me to seek out the truth. The truth about where my daughter is, how I will get to be with her again and what happens when we die.
I've also been trying to understand my emotions, my grief. I want to know what is going on inside myself. And as I read about other people's losses, I understand that what I am going through is not strange. What I'm feeling is normal...but I still want more information. The information I seek is not just about how I'm feeling now, but what is to come. People seem to think I should be getting over things by if I'll ever get over it. I feel like, when I say that I'm not ready to do certain things, to go certain places, people think that I'm using my grief as an excuse to be lazy or not socialize. It's not an excuse though, it's not an exaggeration of what's going on with me. I wish people could understand that I don't want to walk around with my emotions on my sleeve. I don't want to be constantly present with my grief. I want to be present with Dayne when we're at soccer and present with Steve when we're celebrating Father's Day. I understand that, while it's important to work through my grief, it's not the most important thing all the time. I understand that, why can't other people?
I also feel like I work against myself. I am not one to show emotion, I don't like for people to know that I'm hurting, I would rather deal with my pain and grief alone than in front of anyone. For some reason this leads people to believe that I'm fine, that I'm "over it." I have had people say "Well, you seem ok, so..." How do they know? They aren't in my head, they aren't in my heart, how could they possibly know? I'm NOT ok, I'm NOT. I'm functioning, for my family. That is not a reflection of how I feel on the inside. Really, who would want to be around me if I was completely open, at all times, with how I'm feeling in that moment? Nobody wants to be around that, and I could never blame anyone for that, I wouldn't want to be around myself.
I have examined the grief model at length, to try to understand. It explains that people often don't understand that these things don't just pass. At least I know that this isn't my issue with a lack of communication, even if I was communicating my feels better, people may still have the same feelings, or at least similar feelings.
 The grief model sites also say that grief often doesn't happen in the order explained, but it is a good general guide of what to expect. This hasn't really helped me to feel any better and it really doesn't make me feel more sane either, but I feel like, if I just keep searching, at some point, I have to come across the something that will.

Tuesday, June 22, 2010

A Loss is a Loss is a Loss.

It's funny how people categorize losses. Like, if you lose a parent, the pain couldn't possibly compare to that of losing a spouse, but the pain of losing a spouse, of course that doesn't come anywhere close to losing a child. And don't even get started on random friends or second cousins, those really don't count at all.
And the baby loss. The baby loss is something that is also set into categories. If you lose a baby in the first trimester, it doesn't count at all, the second...well, that's sad, but it couldn't touch losing a child in the third trimester, and none of it compares to losing a child that was born and lived a few days or months, maybe even years.
This is the loss competition and I don't want to play.
It's hard to have a stillborn child. It's hard because I had hopes and dreams for my baby and they will never happen. It's hard because so many people believe that somehow it shouldn't hurt me as much as if I had met her, outside the womb, alive. If she had lived for five minutes, that would validate her life for some people. Others feel that unless you have had time to really get to know a child, it doesn't count. I mean, how can you miss someone you never actually met?
A woman that lost a child that had lived for a while, maybe even a few years, commented that it must be harder for a woman that loses a baby before seeing them outside the womb, to never see them smile or see their eyes open from that slumber.
I say, it IS hard, it's the hardest thing I have ever experienced, but it's not HARDER.
Today I spoke to a woman and she told me that she had miscarried at 10 weeks. For a lot of people, this may not be a big deal. For a lot of people that have never been there, this woman has no right to feel the same loss as a mother that has lost a child in the second or third trimester, or after birth. This woman though, as I spoke to her, I understood that her pain was just as real and just as valid as mine.
I have never thought otherwise, but this really put it into perspective for me. I have spoken a lot about my hopes and my dreams for my daughter and this woman who lost her baby at 10 weeks, made me really see, how similar we are. She told me that her baby was to be born in August, her first summer baby, she said finally a summer baby. She called the baby "he" and added that that's what she liked to think of him as. She told me that she never got to feel her baby kick, but he was real to her.
It made me so sad that she had to qualify her statement with "to me" Her baby was real and her pain is real.
All of our pain and all of our loss, it's not a competition. It's certainly not a competition I would want to win. In pregnancy, when you are excited and you have hopes and dreams, your loss hurts horrifically, no matter how far along you are.
We don't need to categorize our losses, we need to understand that no matter who you lose, it hurts and the degree of that pain depends not on who you lost or how, but who your are as a person.

Monday, June 21, 2010


Today. It's what I live, one day at a time. Today.
Today, Dayne and I have had a peaceful day. Calm and quiet, we've played games that don't take much energy. We've watched shows that don't ask you to get up and follow actions along with the characters.
I've done simple chores, and didn't allow myself to feel guilty about really doing not much of anything.
My peace from the cemetery last night has stuck with me today and I am revelling in it. The angry ache in my heart is slightly more subdued. I know it's not going to stay like that, but today is a calm day and I am choosing to recognize and remember this.
For supper I'll make comfort food and I'll hope that this calm wakes up with me tomorrow again, though I won't be upset or disappointed if it doesn't...I will be grateful for today.
I found a short poem today that I really like. It speaks to me because I hate for people to see me cry, and this is a poem I want to remember, something that will remind me that it's ok to cry. So I'm going to post it here for today. I enjoy sharing these things with other people, I enjoy reading poetry, I used to enjoy writing it, but haven't done any of that kind of writing for years. The other day I tried to think of a poem for Alexandra, but I couldn't do it. I felt bad, but I have creative writers block.

There is a sacredness in tears.
They are not the mark of weakness,
but of power.
They speak more eloquently
than 10,000 tongues.
They are the messengers
of overwhelming grief,
of deep contrition,
and of unspeakable love.
- Washington Irving

I hope that everyone else is having a calm and peaceful day today as well.

Sunday, June 20, 2010

Happy Father's Day

In honor of the dads that have lost a child, I am just posting a poem today.

Dear Daddy
By Jo Ann Taylor
Written for Glenn, the daddy of Darrell and Melody who are waiting in heaven

Dear Daddy,

I know today is Father’s Day
and you miss me really bad;
But if you could see what I see,
you wouldn’t be so sad.

I have all kinds of playmates
and playgrounds everywhere!
With swings and slides and
balloon rides that whiz right
through the air.

We have ice cream, cake and candy,
milk, cookies and punch;
We never have to go to bed
and we choose what we want for lunch.

There’s even a river where you and I could fish,
the water’s as clear as a day in spring;
And beautiful rainbows and fluffy white clouds
from which I can see everything!

So you see, daddy,
even though I’m not with you,
I’m under my Father’s care,
and when it’s time for you to come,
you’ll find me waiting right here!

And I’ll give you the biggest hug.
Gee, I can hardly wait.
And when no one’s looking,
we’ll even swing on Heaven’s Gate!

I love you daddy. Happy Father’s Day!

I'll be wishing all the loss daddies a gentle, calm and peaceful day today.

Saturday, June 19, 2010

Tomorrow is Father's Day

Tomorrow is Father's Day and Steve is working. I am sad that he has to work on his special day. He has put in his gift request, for a baseball glove and bat for him and Dayne, so they  can play ball together. He'll be getting it, of course.
I'm not sure if Father's Day brings up the same, or even similar emotions for Steve that Mother's Day brought for me and I'm afraid to ask. I don't want to upset him, he seems to be moving forward ok without pouring his heart out. I know myself very well and I will bring it up later tonight, just to know for sure if I should say anything, or give him an extra long hug tomorrow...which I will do no matter what he says, but it's nice to hear his thoughts and feelings anyway.
Today we hunted for gifts for my stepdad and my my Grandma's husband, who is by all rights, my Grandfather. Though they got married when I was 12 and everyone seemed to think I was too old to call him Grandpa. He's one of my favorite people in this world and he's impossible to shop for! I settled on something that I will not mention here, in case he's reading. I think it's a pretty alright gift though. I wish I had thought of something GREAT, but I couldn't.
While we searched we went into this store that I love. It has all these ceramic angels that have poems written on their dresses. I love to read the poems and always want to buy them for people but never know if other people will appreciate them the way that I do. Those kind of things are only good for a small group, most people don't like nick nacks like that.
In any event, I was looking at the mugs, I thought maybe a mug would be a good gift, but I wasn't finding any that fit. It's so weird that they target women for all this stuff, even the mugs. The angels and the candle holders, I can see, but the mugs? Men use mugs. Maybe most men prefer funny mugs or something, I don't know.
I found a mug that I loved though. I will buy that mug, the next time I'm shopping for myself. I showed Steve and he seemed to agree that this mug was very suited to me and my life at this moment. The quote on the mug read:
"Life is not measured by the number of breaths we take, but the moments that take our breath away"
A common quote, I'm sure, but it's one of those things that just speaks to you. I wonder if this is a good idea for Steve. Although, now that he knows *I* want that mug, he'd probably think I was pulling a Homer Simpson with the bowling ball by giving him that mug.
I had planned on paying for us to go visit Steve's family for Father's Day, so Steve could visit with his dad and everyone could meet our daughter. How plans change. I wish this was his first father's day as the Daddy of a little girl. Tomorrow will be another bittersweet day, for us and so many other people.
I'll be thinking of all the loss mommies spending the day with loss daddies, may you all have a peaceful day tomorrow.

Friday, June 18, 2010

June 18, 2010

Today I had therapy. I wasn't excited to go, I thought about staying home. I'm glad I didn't. The urge to just stay home is one that I fight often. I don't want to leave my house, I don't even want to leave my bed most days. But, life carries on, even when everything in us wishes it would just stop for a few minutes.
So, I got up and went, and I'm glad that I did. My appointment was 50 minutes long, but I ended up being there for nearly half an hour more than was scheduled. I didn't cry today, instead we talked about safe topics, but in a way that was more helpful than when I have similar safe conversations with other people.
I spoke about my search for "the truth" an when I did so, my therapist (I'll really never get used to saying "m therapist, how strange that I have a therapist) gave me a pamphlet, and on it was several quotes from different religions. A few touched my heart, so I plan to share them here, one days when someone elses words come stronger than my own.
Today I am going to share one that I am dedicating to all the other loss moms that happen to read this blog. No matter what you believe, this is a beautiful image and one I imagine everyone can appreciate.

"Perhaps they are not stars, but rather openings in heaven where the love of our lost ones pours through and shines down upon us to let us know they are happy."
-Eskimo Proverb-

Thursday, June 17, 2010

Who Is To Blame?

I don't know if other loss moms feel this way too, but I have a list of things that I am ok talking about without getting overly emotional. I generally fall back on how horrible it is that everything costs so much money when you lose a loved one. That is something that I can discuss while detached from my emotions. Sometimes I talk about the headstone, how when it's FINALLY installed we will be doing a memorial or some kind. Other times, for new people, I give the brief story of what happened with Alexandra.
It's the list of safe topics, the topics that don't make me cry. Sometimes, I'll be talking about one of my safe topics and I realize it has taken me extremely close to the edge. When that happens, I stop talking or say "yeah" or "anyway." It probably appears like I lost my train of thought, I doubt very highly that anyone would be able to tell that I was about to cross the line into that dangerous territory where I will break down causing a scene.
The other day, while talking about one of my safe topics, I mentioned to a friend how so many people have said things that are hurtful to me. I told her a few stories as examples and she seemed as horrified as I was, but quickly added that I should tell her if she said anything that hurt me. I realized then that often, people probably don't know that what they said or what they did hurt me. And who is to blame in those instances? When someone says something that hits a nerve for me and I become hurt, is it my fault that I am allowing someones words to get to me? Is it their fault for saying something stupid? Are people supposed to think about each thing they say to me before they say it, just in case? I don't want people to be afraid to talk to me. One of the things I hate the most are those phrases that everyone uses on grieving friends or family. But, for them to break away from that, they have to first come beyond the fear of offending me...and how can they do that when I am so easily injured by their words?

Wednesday, June 16, 2010

The Appointment

Although I very seriously considered not going to my postpartum appointment, I pulled myself together the best that I could and got myself to the office. I thought my heart may stop, it was beating so fast. I couldn't see straight, I couldn't find my voice. When I spoke to the receptionist, it was barely more than a whisper.
They sent me straight back in to the room. I'm not sure if it was because they had an empty room or because they didn't want to make me sit there with all the other happy pregnant women. Then the thoughts floated around in my head. They probably didn't want someone to ask me about my pregnancy and have me tell them that my baby didn't make it. They probably didn't want me ruining the happiness of those pregnant women. Wouldn't want me planting any sad ideas in their head.
Logically, I know this isn't true. If they were rushing me into a room it was for me, so I would be more comfortable...the logical part of my brain is on vacation though.
When I walked back to the room (room #12) I walked past the other receptionist, the one that was rude to me. I walked past several nurses and a few people I had never seen before. They all knew who I was, I could tell because they all stared at me. It wasn't just a glance as I walked by, it was that stupid stare that I hate. That look of pity that isn't really sincere, but people don't know what else to do.
I stared at the floor, glancing up at the doors quickly to read the number. I avoided eye contact so that they didn't have to feel the obligation to actually SAY something to me.
When I found room 12 I went in and I sat down. I played with my sweater sleeves. I tried not to look around. My heart continued at a pace I didn't know could last so long. I tried not to look around the room. I told myself to keep staring at my sleeves, keep playing with the sweater, don't look up, don't look around, don't cry, BREATHE.
The nurse came in and I wondered if she lost the coin toss, this was how she ended up having to deal with me. I had met her when I was pregnant with Dayne and I always really liked her. She was kind and funny and she made the office more pleasant. My view of her was different on this day. It's funny how people have the ability to deal with certain things REALLY well and other things, not so much. She tried hard to be kind and caring, but that smile that she always wore, it didn't leave her face and made her words seem fake. I wanted to yell at her "WHY ARE YOU SMILING??" But I know it's just the way she is, that smile is because she's a happy person, it's always there, she probably isn't even aware of it.
She asked me a few questions, the usual "How are you doing?" "It's so hard, I know, are you getting therapy?" I barely spoke, my voice was still gone and now I could hardly choke the words out without crying. The conversation was shorter than it felt, I'm sure. Eventually she was leaving the room, telling me to get ready for my exam. So I stripped down and sat there waiting. I had taken my sweater off, so I had no more sleeves to distract me. I looked around the room. I KNEW it was a bad idea, but I did it anyway. My breath was catching in my chest and I could feel myself on the verge of hyperventilating. BREATHE.
When the doctor came in she said "How are you doing?" and I cried. I couldn't hold it in any more. She was really nice to me and answered all of my questions. I had been waiting to ask some things about the cord. How did the knot get there? Had it been there for a long time? Could they have seen it if they did an ultrasound? Did she suffocate? Did she starve? Was this something that happened quickly or did she suffer? These questions were hard, and I almost couldn't ask, but I HAVE to know.
She asked me some questions about subsequent pregnancies, she answered my questions and asked about how I've been sleeping, but she didn't offer any advice as to how to sleep more. She did the exam and gave me the paperwork from the hospital about their "findings" There was no autopsy. We had decided that there would be no autopsy if the cause of death was obvious, and it was. The paper basically said that everything was normal, but there was a knot in the cord. I already knew that, but it was heartbreaking to get that paperwork.
When everything was finished, I couldn't get out of there fast enough. It was way too hard. My mind was floating in a cloud, my heart was still pounding. I needed to get home, to get away from everyone and cry. I needed just a few moments to myself. And when I finally was alone, I completely broke down.
I wish it wasn't this hard. I wish I had my daughter.

Tuesday, June 15, 2010

June, 15, 2010

I have my postpartum appointment today. I'll be leaving in about half an hour. I made the appointment at the prenatal clinic I went to throughout my pregnancy because I thought it would be easier for me, familiar faces and no need to explain why I was having this check up without a baby in tow.
I believe I may have made a horrible mistake. I began to think about explaining to the receptionist that no, I don't have to weigh myself, I'm not pregnant. No, I don't have a baby with me. The way the clinic works is a little different than the usual clinic, there are two receptionists, one when you first walk in and one for each clinic. The first one will not know about my situation. I hadn't thought of this.
I don't want to go sit in a room with a sign that reminds new moms not to toss their baby's diapers in the garbage. Where a fetal heartbeat monitor will be sitting on the counter. For all those moms that are happily pregnant, there for their prenatal exams. The baby pictures on the walls, the pregnant bellies and newborn babies all around me.
What was I thinking?
My heart begins to beat faster, my breath shortens and my eyes well up just thinking of it.
What have I done? Why didn't I think of this? How am I going to get through this?
I wish that Steve could take me, at least I could have my break down in the car, right after I leave then, but he is working and so my step dad is taking me, and I am just not comfortable having that breakdown in front of anyone other than Steve.
Why does everything have to be this hard? Why isn't there a handbook that reminds you, after the shock has worn off, the triggers will grow and you will not be able to sit in the clinic where you last heard your baby's heart beat. You won't want to be there and you will find it almost impossible to be there.
Why I made this most stupid of stupid decisions, I have no idea.

Monday, June 14, 2010

A Poem

I haven't been sleeping much. I'm just so tired. Today as I was starting to actually get into a deep sleep my dog started barking and woke me up. I was up for the day at that point. Tomorrow I have my postpartum appointment, I doubt I'll be doing much sleeping tonight just thinking about that.
The exhaustion today is weighing on me. I didn't work out, I showered late, I did a whole lot of nothing for most of the day. Since I'm too tired to really organize my thoughts enough to write anything good, I want to post a poem I read recently on a loss board. It's really beautiful and it made me cry.

Nobody knew you

Nobody knew you
” Sorry about the miscarriage dear, but you couldn’t have been very far along.”
Nobody knew you
” It’s not as though you lost an actual person.”
…were real
Nobody knew you
” Well it probably wasn’t a viable fetus.
It’s all for the best.”
…were perfect.
Nobody knew you
” You can always have another!”
…were unique.
Nobody knew you
” You already have a beautiful child. Be happy!”
…were loved for yourself.
Nobody knew you
…but us.
And we will always remember
By Jan Cosby

Saturday, June 12, 2010

A Project

Today was a regular kind of day. Dayne and I watched some TV and he went to a birthday party. While he was at the party, I worked out and then I began a project. My mission was to find as many loss mommies as I could. I am collecting their blogs. I was also after the blogs of women that have suffered a loss and gone on to do something to help others. This is something I have noticed happens quite often.
When I found Treasure Beans, I found a lot of other blogs that do similar things. Moms using their pain and their experience, to ease the pain of others. It's really amazing. Just by sending a few emails, my daughter's name will touch people's hearts all over the world. My hope for my daughter to impact as many lives as I can reach, my reach opened up that much more, by these other moms, that understand.
 My project is to compile a list of all the support sites, all the Angel Mommy blogs, all the charities that help, and all of the sites that write our angel's names in some special way. With this list, I want to make a website. I want to help from the time a woman receives that horrifying news that her angel has passed, through her labor and delivery and all the way along her walk through grief. I want these moms to be surrounded by love, hope, acceptance, understanding, and most importantly, all of our Angel Babies.
A new realization has washed over me. My daughter can not only be seen and heard through me, but through me, she can also help families, and so can all those angel babies that passed away before her.
I don't know the firs thing about making a website, but for those that need it, I will learn. My first step was to start my list and I have...and it's huge, and I will continue to add to it, while I learn how I'm going to carry on with this. I will complete this project, it may take me some time, but I will.

Friday, June 11, 2010

Your Comments

I check my blog frequently. I check it a lot more than I write. When someone leaves a comment, I read it. I have read every single comment that has been left on every single entry I have made. I don't really know what proper blog etiquette is, should I comment back on the comments? Do people go back and check? I replied a few times and wondered if the replies went unread or if the people had seen that I took the time to reply...which made me wonder if the people that I didn't reply to were offended.
I am sure that I am putting a lot more thought into this than is necessary, but I am so grateful for every single person that reads this blog. I am so happy that my Alexandra is touching your lives. I appreciate everyone that reads and I love it when people comment.
So, if you were afraid to comment, please, I welcome your thoughts. And if you HAVE commented thank you I have read what you wrote and I appreciate all of your kind words.

Remembering The One's We've Lost

It's something I was never really aware of until recently. We are surrounded by loss. I feel like I should have seen it before, but I was never so aware as I am now.
Yesterday a woman I know told a group of us that it was the anniversary of her friends death. She was sad, thinking about how unfair it was that he had passed away and really missed out on so much of life. He was an adult, but still hadn't lived long enough to really experience life.
Today, a woman that recently joined a loss board I am on, is delivering her baby. She is 22 weeks pregnant and delivering her baby into eternity.
Tomorrow is the 2 year anniversary of the loss of another angel baby.
When we were at the cemetery today, we noticed that two babies had happy birthday balloons by their headstones. Their birthday's have just passed.
So much loss and so much pain surrounds us. And yet, we carry on.
I have never been so conscious of the fact that people are leaving this earth every single day and the only way THEY can carry on is if we remember them.
As odd as it may sound, I think that everyone that reads this should take this next moment to remember those that they have loved and lost. I know that I have been thinking of the three people that I listed, the two birthday babies at the cemetery and my daughter today.
All of my thoughts are with the families of those that are struggling today. May you all find just a little bit of peace within yourself.

Wednesday, June 9, 2010

Betrayal Of My Body

If you have ever been cheated on, you may know how this feels. You told all your friends how great this person was, you never would have expected that they would cheat and when you found out, you felt betrayed. You probably felt really stupid for all those kind words you shared. Depending on how far along the relationship was would play largely into how deep these feelings ran.
For me, when I think of all the things I said about my daughter, all the dreams I talked about, the times I said she would take dance classes, she would wear mostly dresses, all the times I looked at other little girls and thought about if my daughter would look similar to that. Would she be born with dark hair and have it lighten up like her brother?
I actually stated, very matter of factly, that she would look like her daddy when she was born and within six months she would look like me. It's what happened with Dayne. I joked that an old friend of mine had said it was for paternity purposes that kids were born looking like their fathers and then began to look like their mothers. I knew it would be the same for my daughter.
I said a lot of things that I hoped for my daughter. I called about her RESP, because she needs an education fund, so that she will be successful. I applied for maternity leave. I posted her as my daughter on facebook, with her birth date. I registered for everything you could register for.
And I feel stupid. I feel betrayed. My own body has betrayed me. My own body has taken all those words, all those hopes and dreams and robbed me of them. I am horrified when something comes in the mail, those things from Heinz or the nestle, the diaper samples and formula cans. It's not the items though, it's the slap in the face reminder that I had plans for my daughter. From the diapers to the food samples, these were the first steps of those plans. Those plans that have been stolen from me, when my daughter's life was stolen.

Tuesday, June 8, 2010

Treasure Beans

Not too long ago I was told about a site called Treasure Beans. A mother on a support board that I'm on said that a woman painted the names of babies that have passed away on pebbles. After she paints the pebbles, she takes pictures of them. You can buy the stone or a disc with the pictures or you can have her keep it safe for you, while the pictures of it are showcased on her site.
I went to the site, I looked at all the treasure beans and I cried. So many losses. It's really heartbreaking. But, at the same time, it's truly touching to see someone taking such heartache, such pain and turning it into something so beautiful. I looked at every single picture, at every single name and I hoped that they were all playing with my Alexandra.
I emailed the woman that owns the site. I told her about my story and asked her to please, make a treasure bean for my daughter. I received an email back from a woman named Casey, her story was so similar to mine and she was so understanding.
This morning when I checked my email I received a wonderful surprise. Casey had emailed me with the pictures she took of my daughter's stone. That one email made my day. There were three pictures and they were absolutely beautiful.
I called Steve as soon as I saw them and told him, I was so excited, I wanted to share them with everyone. I told him that now, everyone will see our daughters name. I struggle with the fact that she doesn't seem as real to everyone else as she was to us. People don't understand as deeply as we do that she was real, she was our daughter and she was REAL. These pictures and this stone, they make her so much more real to so many people.
I want to share this site with everyone. Anyone that has experienced a loss needs to know about this woman and how she is helping people to heal with her talents.

Monday, June 7, 2010

It Won't Go Away

My sister and I had plans to go to Body Worlds before we found out about Alexandra. I have seen the ads for it since and wondered if she still wants to go. I can't go. I thought it looked so neat, but now, the idea of seeing cadavers, nope, I can't do it. I'm having problems with the thought of anything to do with death. There are words that make me cringe because they are triggering my struggle with anything death related right now. The words themselves don't offend me, they don't hurt me, they just make something in my brain jump to thoughts of death that I can't handle at the moment.
We went grocery shopping yesterday. Whenever we go out to run errands, whenever I do anything, I think about how it would be if I had my daughter with me. Last night, when we were grocery shopping, I had to run to grab something we forgot. As I was walking back I thought about how I would be pushing a stroller or carrying my daughter had things turned out the way they were supposed to. These thoughts, I don't choose for them to jump into my head. They just pop up and they stop me dead in my tracks. And I just want to stop wherever I am and cry.
I always thought that I was a strong person, that pain is only temporary, that if you can just suck it up and tough it out, you will be fine. I planned to deliver my daughter with no drugs. My mindset was that the pain would pass but that experience would stay with me forever. One of my old favorite quotes "The pain passes but the beauty remains" (Pierre Auguste Renoir)
This pain won't pass though. No amount of grinning and bearing it will make the pain go away. And I wonder, is this how my life is going to be from now on? Just barely making it through the days with this excruciating heartache? Will I ever be fully present again? Is my entire life and any amount of happiness that I might experience going to be consumed by this pain? If I could just have my daughter back...Why can't I just have my daughter?

Saturday, June 5, 2010

What do YOU want to do?

I've noticed something. I am never sure what to do. What do I say? What do I do? How can I go about something without offending, without hurting someone else? What should I say? How should I act?
I worried about what to say to the therapist and everyone told me not to worry, to say whatever came to me. But what was the RIGHT thing to say? Was there something I was SUPPOSED to be saying?
I wonder how often I SHOULD go to the cemetery. We go once a week now. It's just how it's worked out with Steve's work and our other commitments. I feel badly saying that, like my daughter isn't a commitment...she is. And I feel like, by putting something ahead of her, we are acting like she can wait, she's not as important...and she is.
I wonder who I should talk to, when I should talk to them, what I should say. I keep worrying about what other people are thinking, how they are feeling, if something I do will upset THEM.
For every time someone has told me to do what makes ME feel better I have thought that I am so lost, I don't know what will make me feel better. I already have so much hurt and so much guilt, I don't want to realize some time down the road that I should have been doing something else and by not doing that something else, I was somehow shrugging off my responsibility to my daughter.
I hope that she knows, no matter what mistakes I make in talking to people about her, or visiting with her too much or not enough, I hope she knows that I'm trying. I'm doing the best that I can with what I have and that I miss her and I love her. No matter what, the very core of everything that I do is because I love her and I miss her, those are the only two things I feel 100% sure on.

Friday, June 4, 2010


Last year I injured my shoulder. The doctor told me I had a torn rotator cuff. I went for cold laser therapy to help heal it. The day after I had it done, my shoulder felt extra sore. Like the muscles and tissue were all raw, it was quite painful. For the record, the following day it felt MUCH better.
Today, I went for my first therapy appointment. I feel like my shoulder felt the first day after cold laser therapy, only, rather than physical pain, it's emotional. My emotions are raw, I am hyper sensitive, I don't really want to talk to people.
The therapy itself was an interesting experience. I tried to stay a little more guarded than I normally would be because I didn't want to cry. Before I went I listened to happy music, I played with Dayne, I tried to prepare myself, to bring my mood up so that it would be more difficult for me to start crying. My plan did not work, I really need to stop making these plans, they never seem to pan out for me.
She began by asking me about what happened. I spared her all the details, I ran through what happened quickly. I shared why we went to the hospital, how we found out, that we went home that day and came back the next, that the cord was around her neck and had a knot in it. I didn't cry. When I was finished she said nothing. She looked at me and said nothing. I think she was waiting for more details, I didn't want to share, I didn't want to cry.
Eventually I did cry. I cried talking about the walk home from Dayne's pre school. How I had taken that walk the Thursday before Alexandra passed away. How I refuse to do it now, I won't take that walk again. When I explained to her why I wouldn't take that walk, I did ok, when I commented at the end that NOW I would be taking that walk with her in a stroller, had she not passed away, I had to stop. I had to cry.
When I talked about my dog I cried. I told her about how he got sick at Christmas time and on New Years Day we rushed him to the emergency vet. I told her that I was terrified that he wouldn't live to meet Alexandra, before that moment, before I told that story out loud, I didn't realize, and the realization crashed down on me. I was worried about the dog because he's old, I was afraid that HE wouldn't make it until Alexandra was born, I never thought that SHE wouldn't make it. And then it dawned on me, I wanted him to meet her, I wanted my dog to tiptoe around Alexandra like he had done around Dayne, I wanted him to play with her and experience her and he won't.
It's hard. Today is hard. Every day is hard, but when you actually have to face the worst feelings, even for a minute, it's so incredibly hard and it hurts so, so much.
I know I have more thoughts to share about the therapy, about my day today, but at this moment, I simply can't.

Wednesday, June 2, 2010

Working Out

Today I did my first work out since...well, since before I found out I was pregnant. I used to work out every single day. I loved it, it made me feel good about myself and it made me happy. The April or May before I found out I was pregnant I got a job that took up a lot more of my time, the job itself was a work out, so I dropped the ball (literally, because a big part of my work out was the ball work out) Just before I found out I was pregnant, I had started walking. Not short walks, I would drop Dayne off at school and walk to work. It was a long walk, and I made sure to go fast to get my heart going. It was a nice start to my days.
Shortly after my morning sickness started, I was too sick to do that walk. It was not too long after that time that I stopped working.  I didn't work out again after that. I did some stretching on the ball at first, but eventually stopped all together.
Recently I have felt that maybe if I start working out again it will help me. It will help me to lose the baby weight I gained and that will help me to fit into my old clothes, which will make me feel better about myself. I'm also running on the idea that exercise released endorphins and endorphins make you happy. Maybe working out will help me to gain a little bit of happiness. I certainly couldn't hurt.
I also feel like...working out is a better escape than any of the other things I could getting drunk or sleeping all day.
So, today I decided to start. I started with an "easy" ball workout. One that I normally did as a warm up before I did Turbo Jam. It's only 25 minutes long and I used to breeze right through it. Today however, it was a little more difficult than it used to be. I made it through the whole thing, without having to stop, so I guess I'm not that out of shape, but I didn't finish it without a thought like a year ago.
I'm going to keep going though, eventually I will be back to the same spot I was last year and maybe it will help me. At least it's a great way to spend time with Dayne, he loves to workout, and he's pretty good at the ball workout. If nothing else, it is a way to spend precious time with him.

Tuesday, June 1, 2010

June 1st, 2010

Today is not a very good day for me. I don't know why. I didn't sleep well last night, I was upset by some people that were less than empathetic and it really impacted my sleep. I woke up early and wrote out some of the thank you cards I have to get done, I got Dayne ready for school, I visited with him before he left.
While he was gone, I tried to relax, but felt like something was just not right...I feel...I don't know really, maybe like there is a cloud hovering over me.
I went for lunch with my mom and step dad and found myself easily upset by children. All children, not just newborn baby girls, but baby boys and little girls that were older. While I was at the bank I saw a little girl running by, with cute little jeans and these adorable white shoes. It was something I would have picked for my daughter to wear at that age...Except, I will never have that opportunity. I don't know why it hurt so much, usually I can block it out, but not so much today.
When I got home I put on some jogging pants and turned up the heat and crawled into bed. I turned on a computer game for Dayne and we sat here together. He has soccer tonight and I don't want to go. I commented to Steve about it. I said that he should take Dayne and I should stay home. He chuckled like it was a joke. I guess I don't get that time that people talk about. I don't get to choose to stay home if I want to.
I told Steve that I'm feeling especially sad today and he told me to calm down...How does that really make me feel better? I know he doesn't know what to say to me, and I don't fault him for trying an answer like that. I don't really know what I want from him, I don't know if I will ever feel that he understands how I am feeling enough because he is feeling his grief differently than I am. I sometimes wonder what it's like in his head. Does he think about this stuff as much as me? Does his pain feel the same?
I hate this day and I can't wait to go to bed. But in the mean time, I don't get to just sit here, I have to carry on, even when I really, really don't want to.