Day 6 of 100 Days of Grief


"Memory is the diary that we all carry about with us."
-Oscar Wilde


It's New Years Eve today.  Today has been hard.  I'm pretty sure I write that every day but today has been more so.  I went to breakfast with a friend and I enjoyed the time with her but came home feeling heavy.  I kept trying to push through.  I wanted to do something the kids would enjoy and I had errands I had to do.  Now I'm curled up in bed not wanting to do anything more.  Today I wasn't gentle with myself but I've felt so guilty my children are stuck in this home with a mother who can't seem to stop crying and who isn't completely present. 

I wasn't expecting to day to be hard but watching on social media as everyone has recapped their year made me look back at this last year.  Everyone seems to be excited about the future year and I'm not.  I don't want to move forward without my baby.  I don't want to move further in time because it's like time is taking her away from me.  

That and when I was so sick I kept telling myself just get to January.  January will be better.  January I won't be sick and I'll get to enjoy the pregnancy.  January is tomorrow and it won't be better.  It will be so much worse.  

That and I feel so much pressure to be "better" by January.  It seemed like I always put a due date that I would be able to move on in January.  In January I would start up lessons again.  In January I would be involved in young women's again.  In January I would be able to get my kids to and from school by myself.  In January...  January is tomorrow and I'm not sure I'm any more capable of doing those things than I was in December.  It scares me.  Why am I not working through this faster?   Why is this miscarriage so difficult for me?   Am I holding on too tight?  

I wish I could stop time and not have to move forward.  Can't I stay in this moment and not have her fade away in everyones memories?  In my own memory?  

Today's prompt is about memories.  It says: If you have mementos from this pregnancy, such as a pregnancy test, a newspaper printed on the day of the miscarriage, ultrasound pictures, photos taken of you when you were pregnant, or a list of names you were considering, gather everything up and place it in a special memory box that you can go through whenever you're thinking about this baby.  

It says, "if those around you try to take memories away from you in a misguided attempt to spare you from more pain, let them know that this is not helpful."  I did this to myself.  I tried to rid my house of all the things that hurt.  And now I regret it deeply.  I gave away the fabric I was going to use to make her a blanket.  I gave up a diaper bag a good friend had given me for her.  There are so many things that I tried to get rid of.

Luckily I didn't get rid of everything.  While I was trying to work through the to do list of getting better I asked my friends to donate to making newborn gifts for refugees.  I had so many good friends and family that donated and with each gift I had notes of encouragement and love.  I saved all those small slips of paper.  I have notes from my sweet young women.  I have medical tape.  I have notes from the doctor about my ultrasound at the hospital.  I have cards and notes from neighbors and friends.  I have books given to me to read.  I have a sweet bracelet given anonymously.  I have angel wings on a necklace.  I have my six week ultrasound picture of her.  

The one thing in the pile I have that I haven't been able to look at is the final ultrasound of her at the hospital.  I asked my doctor for the pictures and he told me the hospital had them.  So I requested them and they are on a cd waiting for me to have the courage to see her.  On the papers I picked up it describes the findings of the ultrasound.  The only thing I can remember from it are "fetal demise".  I haven't been able to look at it since.  

I few weeks ago when I was gathering everything I asked for Nick to make me a box for her things.  For now they sit next to me on my night stand.  It's comforting to me to know that in some way she is there with me at night.  At least these small pieces of what's left of her.  

I was thinking that this blog is also the another thing to "put in the box."  But I"m not sure I want to put this in the box.  I want her box to hold things that are joyful but it's been hard because I didn't experience the good parts with her.  It seems that we only travelled through the hard things together.  Hopefully some day we can experience some good things together.  Things that bring joy instead of grief and pain.  I wish that day were now since tomorrow is January and all things were supposed to better in January.  

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