Day 22 of 100 Days of Grief

"Many people are alive but don't touch the miracle of being alive."
-Thich Nhat Hanh

Today the clouds weren't so thick.  I found myself laughing with Hannah.  I even spent thirty minutes reading a book.  It was on my to do list but still.  Before whenever I tried to read I couldn't sit.  And today I sat.  The guilt was still there but I kept telling myself to enjoy the book and there was nothing more pressing that I needed to do.  So Hannah and I sat for a good thirty minutes reading our books.  It was kind of nice.  

Today I sat and tried to remember what it was like two months ago.  It's funny how my mind has kind of put a shield up.  There are even times that I forgot that I miscarried.  And then I feel terrible.  But there are other times that it's always in my thoughts.  Today it felt like it never happened.  

I was feeling pretty good today thinking maybe the cloud had lifted.  Then half way through the day I got on facebook and a friend posted that she was expecting.  It's like a shock of pain radiates through your body.  And the feelings are so complicated.  You're sad for your loss, you're jealous that they are pregnant, you feel bad for being jealous, and you also try so hard to be happy for them.  That and I swear everyone around me is getting pregnant.  It feels a little like salt being rubbed in a wound.  

Also I've been thinking about the future.  What is that going to look like?  When I went in for my D&C the doctor asked what we were planning on doing for birth control or if we planned on trying again.  I told him I was done.  Right after I lost Hope I told Nick that we couldn't try again.  I couldn't go through it again and I told him he needed to remind me that when I told him I wanted more kids.  But now as I'm further down the road I think I said that too hastily.  

When the doctor asked what birth control we were going to use I told him Nick planned on getting  a vasectomy.  We need to get it done but I can't seem to make that phone call.  I wonder what if we wait a little longer when Nick has lost some more weight.  Maybe then it will be easier to get pregnant.  It just doesn't make sense in my brain that we had Henry and Hannah without even really trying and then suddenly we can't have kids.  

If we get the vasectomy done what if we were supposed to have more children?  How do we know what to do?  I've prayed for the last 4 years trying to understand what to do and every time I prayed I feel like I got an answer to have more children and that it was possible.  Now I'm scared to pray.  Will God ever tell me no?  What if he tells me yes?  But then I think about it logically and I realize we can't have more children.  One, I don't think my body can do that again.  I was so sick.  So much worse than the other kids and I'm getting older.  It takes so much more out of me.  Two, we can't afford it again.  Our medical bills are ridiculous from the IV's and the nurses and the doctors and the ultrasounds and the surgery.  Three, I feel so terrible that when I'm pregnant I can't take care of my own kids.  It's such a heavy burden on them and Nick and I don't want to put them through that again.  

And if we don't have any more kids I'm not sure how to go to this next part of life where my kids aren't home anymore.  Hannah is going to be in kindergarten next year and then the next year they will both be in school.  How did I go from being a mom so overwhelmed by diapers and nursing and nap times to packing lunches and then having an empty house?  I remember when I was in the crazy baby and toddler stages with the kids and how I wished for just two minutes to myself.  Now I'm scared of being alone without them.  I was supposed to have Hope home with me.  

Today's prompt is about taking the time to mourn each day.  I feel like I've tried to do that with this blog.  If I'm being honest I kind of love and hate this time each day.  I dread it because it's hard to think about all the things.  It's hard to write down the feelings and then feel them all over again.  It's hard to be reminded that my baby died.  Somedays I want to just skip it and pretend it never happened.  But I also love it because once I am writing I'm able to let out the emotions I didn't realize I was holding in.  Or express the thoughts that have been floating in my mind but I wasn't able to communicate.  

Today's prompt:  Conscious mourning sounds absurd, I know.  Purposefully invite pain into my day?  Yet it will come without warning anyway, because it demands to be seen and heard.  Giving it a dedicated time and space each day may help you meet al your other obligations even as you do the necessary work of mourning.

This blog is my dedicated mourning time.  It's on my to-do list every day.  I put it on the list in the morning so each day it will get done.  It's hard and most often painful but it's nice to remember that Hope was real.  She was with me for a short period of time and I'm grateful for that time even though it was really hard.  Mourning is hard but maybe at the end of this 100 days I can look back through the entries and see how far I've come and see it as a way to honor Hope.  


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