this is the way it is

Some things aren't good for you. I don't think spending a lot of time here in this building is one of them. Or maybe it is. I asked to get closer to Emma...this is how the world presented it to me. The world gave me this time here with myself and her memory, just a floor below where I met her for the first time and handed her away for the last time. And people ask me why I have a connection to this place? Will this prevent me from ever growing and expanding?

I miss the old me. So badly.

Yes, I can be silly and happy still. But, I am not entirely sure if I am capable of making my eyes shaped like this anymore. I was tired, uncomfortable, too hot, sore, stressed, and so unsure of what was coming in the next month...unprepared, confused, scared. But most of all, naive, blissfully ignorant...never knowing what could happen to the sweet baby who was growing inside my belly. I was too busy worrying about how I would love two whole babies...how I would fit her in a two bedroom house and incorporate her into a boy's room. I never knew less than a month later I'd be burying her.

She haunts my dreams, my wake time...my entire being. She won't visit my dreams, but she spends her days in my head, reminding me of what I'm missing. She consumes me. And I don't mind...because she's my baby girl and I'll take whatever visitation I can get. 17 months. God it seems like a lifetime. She follows me around, chasing me like a butterfly. 

So I sit...and I watch Grey's...because everyday emotions aren't good enough. I need emotions that take me back to Emma's time. I was watching it when I was pregnant with her and it reminds me of her. Everything does though, of course. I'm sitting here in my hospital room...which coincidentally reminds me of when I had her, IN a hospital bed, alone, not pregnant anymore, by myself, left alone in these 4 walls drowning in my own emotions.

I want an IV in my arm, I want to be prepped for surgery, I want to be here in the early hours waiting to go down to the OR...I want to do this right -- and go have Emma the right way, have her alive. Better yet, I'm still waiting for the day when my doc gives me the go ahead for induction. When I'm supposed to arrive to the hospital in the evening and have cervadil placed, and possibly be hooked up to pitocin in my IV, munching away on ice chips, chilling with my epidural (or not if I could've handled it) concentrating on breathing my contractions away, waiting on this sweet baby girl to come, listening to the rhythm of her beautiful heart beating away on the monitor. Waiting for the moment when it comes time to push, then when they lay her on my chest and she screams that first cry and I feel her warm skin on mine. I can smell the smells of the delivery room, taste the ice, feel her heart beating beneath my hand from the back. Its so close...

I'm still waiting for that day. I will be forever waiting on that day. How's life waiting on a day that will never come?
I never promised that all of my blogs would be happy. or me working through my grief. I may not even share this. I probably won't. Its embarrassing. So only those people who follow it closely will know.

I still can't believe this has happened. That this happens hundreds of times every day. And it happened to me. Why did it happen to me?