Nerves

I've been feeling anxious this past week. It creeps up from the pit of my stomach and sits in my heart, making it beat just a bit faster. The memorial is creeping up too. It's this Saturday. 

This Saturday, I should be putting a 1 month sticker on my baby, taking multiple pictures, and then putting those pictures on Facebook. Instead, I'll be reading Genevieve's eulogy at her memorial. I'm sure this is contributing to my nerves. 

It continues to upset me that my husband feels, as do I, he must "prove" that Eve is real. It sounds ludacris in my head, but the feeling of wanting to be justified in my grief by his family is real. He doesn't think they realize they lost a grandchild and that if we have another baby, our pain won't disappear. It won't and the reason it won't is because Eve was a real little girl. She's our daughter and we love her. You can't just replace that and there will always be a special place in our heart for her. 

My husband also asked his best friend to not bring his baby to the memorial. This Saturday, will already be difficult without a reminder that we don't have a baby, but he does. We haven't heard a response, but we have a feeling the baby's mother will throw a fit. I could see her being uneasy about people watching her if it were her first child, but it's her second. Her mother can easily watch the baby.  However, we haven't heard back from his friend, so I suppose that is also contributing to my anxiety. 

I just hope for the sake of my and my husband's healing, every acts the way they should. 

She's real

My husband and I were discussing our memorial speeches for Genevieve. Mine is already written and he's not sure what he's going to say. We jokes that it should be a long list of things not to say to us. It would include any mention of future kids. He said that his family doesn't seem to understand that having another baby doesn't take away our pain. 

I feel for him and I'm angry at them for their insensitivity. Genevieve was a real baby. She existed. We bonded with her for 34 weeks. We played games with her and played music for her. She has a room at our house. She cannot simply be replaced. Nor do we want to replace her. 

However, because of their lack of tact, he feels he has to convince people at her memorial that she was real. It's upsetting and disappointing. We should not have to justify to anyone that we are parents mourning the loss of our daughter, and just because she's in heaven doesn't mean we are anything less than parents. Yet, we feel like we have to point that out to people, and what's terrible is that it has to be explained to family. 

We lost a real baby. She was 6 lbs 6 oz and 19 inches long. She was beautiful and now she's our angel. 

Results

We heard back from the doctor about Genevieve's autopsy results. Everything came back normal. Obviously, everything wasn't normal because her organs filled with fluid and she died. 

At first the doctor thought my liver might have attacked her or she took in my bad antibodies. I'm relieved it was not my liver, but incredibly frustrated that we don't know what caused her death. 

It's hard for me to accept explanations like "it's god's will" or "life's not fair." There has to be some scientic explanation for something like this to happen. 

Luckily, my high risk doctor is really thorough and likes answers. She said in her message that there are other tests she can run. I'm hoping she can help us find the answers. 

Christmas

I'm really glad Christmas is over. I can't even say I was being a grinch because my heart did not grow two sizes at the end. 

I wish people would realize that sending us cards of children after loosing our baby, isn't helpful. It's a painful reminder that my arms are bare and my heart empty. I can't look on Facebook any more for fear I may see babies in their first Christmas clothes or other children opening gifts. It's just not the same this year. 

My mother in law sent us a card with "all" of the grandchildren in it. Of course my daughter was missing. When asked about it, she said we would have been mad at her if we didn't get one. I didn't realize part of the grieving process was to quiz people about what they received in their Christmas cards. I have two issues with her card/picture besides how incredibly insensitive it is. One her or my father in law were no where in the picture so why are they sending us a picture of her grandchildren? Two, that's what parents are supposed to do with their Christmas cards. My grandparents never sent pictures of their grand kids, that's what my mom did. 

The grief counselor said my anger is starting to come through which I guess is a step towards healing. I'm just glad Christmas is over and I can take down the tree. 

Cats

Genevieve would have had many fur brothers and sisters: four cats, two dogs, and a guinea pig whose day job is being a classroom pet. She is so loved. 

My dogs don't seem to have noticed how sad I am, but the cats definitely have. They come out of their way to snuggle me or rub against my leg. The dogs just sit there with a dopey look on their face like "play with me, pet me, throw the ball."  The cats understand I'm in pain. They let me love on them a bit more than they would have tolerated before. 

Before they were all I needed to be cheered up. That was before I met my angel and understood how much I could love someone. They still try to make me feel better, they always try. 

Isolated

Unless you've lost a child, luckily you will not understand the magnitude of pain I am going through. I've never felt so isolated, alone, and hopeless. I was with Genevieve nonstop for 34 weeks and now that she is no longer with me, I feel incomplete. I am actually alone. 

I'm supposed to live out the rest of my days without her and society would like for me to forget about her and move on, but how can you just move on from something like this? I don't want to forget her, how could any mother forget her baby? And so, society will also leave me isolated and alone. 

Three weeks ago, I was told my baby was no longer with me. Her body remained, but her essence and soul was gone from this world. 

I know I will see her again some day and sometimes I wish that day were sooner rather than later. The thoughts scare me because I've never felt such sorrow and pain and that also leaves me feeling isolated. I'm told I will feel happiness as in one day, but now it seems doubtful. 

Sadness

The sadness that comes with loosing Genevieve is overwhelming. It's like a gust of wind blowing in my face out of nowhere and as quickly as it comes, it sometimes leaves as quickly. 

Things that are supposed to be fun, like going on a date with my husband, turn into tears because the wind blew at just the wrong moment. I wonder what her lasts thoughts were and hope she knew how much a love her. 

The thought of my life without her fills me with dread. I've already been told by my in laws that I should continue to have more children. It's heartbreaking they think she can be replaced. I could have a million babies and none of them could replace Eve and the thought that she could be so easily forgotten brings tears to my eyes. 

The same people have told me to "feel better". The sadness of what has happened smothers me at times so the thought of me feeling better is laughable. I'm not sick with some curiable disease, my daughter died. She died about 3 weeks ago. I will not be feeling better any time soon. For now, it's just sadness. 

Guilt

Guilt is such an ugly emotion that shows its face at every weak second of the day.  It's something that has become a part of everyday life.  After all, I was the one with the liver condition and she died inside of me.  I feel like my body betrayed me.  I know in my mind that it is not my fault.  I didn't tell my liver to attack itself, I didn't tell her liver to fail, but guilt throws aside all logic and reason and pours acid and pain into my heart.

My addiction of liking to control my life, feeds into the guilt beast.  It has me feeling hopeless and weak.  The guilt sets in because, of course, if I could control this, it never would have happened.  I would have had a healthy 6 pound 6 ounce baby girl who came home with us, but fate had other plans.  We came home alone with a suitcase full of "whatifs."

Guilt hasn't just plagued me, it has infected the people around me.  My husband feels guilty leaving me at home when he goes to work.  He feels guilty if he can't respond to a text I sent because I had a total meltdown.  My friends who just had babies feel guilty that their babies lived and mine died.

If sadness is my first strongest feeling, guilt is my second and it's ugly.

The Beginning

Genevieve would be 2 weeks old today.  It's hard to believe 2 weeks have already gone by in my haze of crying and disbelief.  I never figured I would be one of those unfortunate mothers who had to go on living without her baby.  Yet, here I am.

Before this happened, I never could understand how someone could do drugs or become an alcoholic.  I can now, and even though it is not an option I would personally take, I can see how amidst the sadness and vulnerability, the need to escape this life.

Grief should be linear.  Everyone has heard at least some of the steps, a person should be able to go through each of those steps and go right on to the next one.  Grief is more like a wave in the ocean.  Sometimes the sadness comes in little waves and as soon as you think you can handle those, a tidal wave comes by to knock you over.  Then the undercurrent drags you under and you are pulled out to sea of sorrow.

I've never felt so alone.  I carried Genevieve for 34 weeks.  We were literally together 24/7 and while I hated being pregnant, I absolutely adored and loved that little girl.  I never imagined someone so small could capture my heart and then suddenly be taken from my life.

I'm not the same person I once was, and I wonder what type of person I will be when I finally come out on the other side.  Will I like me?  Will my husband like me?  Will other people like me?  I guess only time will tell.