Sadness is an Ever-Present State

Leo,

Every time I feel I'm doing a little better, I fall back into the abyss.

Many things happened today that made me angry, sad, hurt. But I think that what is hurting me the most is knowing that at exactly this time, 4 weeks ago, I was in the emergency room, not knowing what was going on. Not knowing what was going to happen to you.

Four weeks ago. So much has changed since that day.

I went to work today, but I probably shouldn't have. I am constantly surprised at how painful grieving can be. I never know when sadness will take over. I'm never prepared for it. Today, at around 2pm, I couldn't stay at my desk anymore. I grabbed my jacket and walked out. I took a walk on a trail nearby. It's a beautiful day today. It's a little crisp outside, but the sky is blue, the sun is shinning. Tears were coming down my face as I walked. I needed to find a little private space where I could just let it all out.

I found a bench near the water and sat there. The sun was shinning on my face, it felt wonderful. It felt like a warm hug. I just sat there, Leo, and wept. Every time I was ready to get up and leave, I felt another wave of tears surface. I sat there for about 30 minutes. I don't think I was thinking of anything in particular. You don't need to think to be sad. Sadness is an ever-present state. It's just there. You can bury it, hide it, ignore it...but it will find its way out and you just need to acknowledge it. That's what I did today. I sat on that bench in the park and dealt with the sorrow, the pain, the loss. I sat on the bench and cried my heart out.

Broken World

Dear Leo,

I sometime feel like I'm a spectator to life. The world continues to go on. People around me are living their lives, smiling, laughing, enjoying it. My world is different though. My world is bleeding, crying and trying to survive. My world is gasping for air, feeling weak at the knees, trying to hold it together. 

People around me know that my world has collapsed. They know that it's trying to rebuild itself. But no one cares. At first, a few people asked me how I was. Not everyone...no, not everyone. People are afraid to say something, to talk to me...as if what I have is contagious. Or perhaps they are afraid to upset me or afraid to see me crying in front of them. They would be uncomfortable if that were to happen. They don't want to feel uncomfortable. Well, who the heck cares if they are uncomfortable? Uncomfortable is nothing compared to what I'm going through. NOTHING! 

Well, it's almost been 4 weeks since my world fell apart...but to the others, I should probably be over it already. Few people ask me how I am now. At first, you get a lot of support and then, nothing. Do they really think that it's that easy? Do they think I can just snap out of this? Don't they know that this is not like having the flu...I can't just recuperate, heal, pretend it never happened. No! This is real, this is deep, this in inconsolable. 

I do put on a strong face though. I pretend to be part of their world, so that I can feel like I belong....so that they are not uncomfortable. But often, I retrieve to my little broken world. It's a painful place, but it's comforting and it's my world. I can be my true self there; I can fall, I can cry, I can be angry. No one there tells me to be strong, no one tells me that things will be ok. Because the reality is, things will never be ok. A world without you Leo, will never be ok. 

Drowning

My dear little angel,

Yesterday was a tough day for both your dad and I. When I woke up, I had a vague recollection that your dad had been crying, but I wasn't sure if it had really happened of if it had been a dream. I later found out that he was crying in bed. He had seen a picture of me while I was still pregnant and then he had spent some time looking at pictures of you. He just lay there crying. He told me that I woke up and said "cry as much as you need." But I don't remember that. I wish I had stayed up and comforted him. We need each other in moments like these.

On the bus to work, I typically read a book about bereavement or I browse through a few online support groups. Yesterday, someone posted a beautiful article that was published on Still Standing Magazine.  Sometimes, you don't really know what you're feeling until you read about someone else's anguish and pain.  I was trying to control my tears a little on the bus, but couldn't. The strange thing is that, there I was, in a bus that is completely packed, crying, and no one noticed me. No one noticed it! No one knows that I had a you, my darling baby boy, and then lost you! It's such a lonely world out here.

I got off the bus and it was cold and misty...just like me. I love it when Mother Nature agrees with me. I feel like maybe she understands and is feeling the same way.  I was just walking to work, in the rain, lots of cars passing by, but I was the only pedestrian around. I don't quite know what happened at that moment, but I just started to sob uncontrollably. I pondered whether I should stop, sit on the sidewalk and just let it all out. But I didn't. I kept walking and sobbing and couldn't stop.

Some days, things are going really well. I can think of you and smile. I can remember holding you in my arms and find comfort in that memory. But then, there are days when things are just so tough. It feels like being in the

ocean...at one moment, the water is calm and you're having a grand time swimming around. And then, a wave hits you and you're drowning, gasping for air. It's painful, frightening and you feel like you're dying. And then you're faced with a choice: do I give in and let myself be swallowed by the ocean or do I try to fight these insurmountable waves and swim back to shore?

Yesterday, I was able to swim back.

If you were born today...

My lovely Leo,

I'm still getting notifications on my phone every week to remind me where I'm at, pregnancy-wise. So today, I got a notification that I'm at 27 weeks of gestation. The notification was the following:

"This week,  your baby weighs almost 2 pounds and is roughly 14 1/2 inches long. 

He or she is sleeping and waking at regular intervals, opening and closing those little eyes, and perhaps even sucking on his or her fingers. 

With more brain tissue developing,  your baby's brain is very active now. The lungs are still immature, but they would be capable of functioning - with a lot of medical help - if your baby were to be born now. 

Chalk up any tiny rhythmic movements you may be feeling to a case of baby hiccups, which may be common from now on. Each episode usually lasts only a few moments, and they don't bother your baby, so just relax and enjoy the tickle." 

I like getting the notifications, because it reminds me of where I would have been, if you were still in me. But today, reading this made me a little sad. If you were born today, instead of on October 22,  you would have been 2 pounds instead of 1 lbs, 8 ounces! You would have been 2 inches longer! I would have seen your eyes, you would have seen your parents looking at you with love. But most importantly, if you were born today, instead of 3 weeks ago, you might have had a chance. Your lungs weren't ready when you came out...but they might have been able to retain oxygen if you were born today. And if you were in me still, I would have felt your hiccups...something I'll never be able to experience now. 

But, you were born when you were born.  I'm a mother, with no baby. My belly is still a little full, but there's no one in there.

Your little hands and feet