Wake Up

Everyone says that the morning is a fresh start, a new day. I have noticed that for those of us who have suffered through child loss, at times, all morning is to us is a slap in the face that this nightmare we live is in fact, not a nightmare, but our life.

Every morning when I'd wake up after losing Emma in the early days, I would basically re-live my loss over and over and over again. I remember that first morning waking up at home after losing her and for just a second, not forgetting as the picture says, but being like, wait...maybe all that was a dream...then reality hit me like a Mack truck. Square in the face. All of a sudden. Talk about a wake up call. I'd rather have not woke up at all, honestly. That morning I'd lay in bed for several hours, it was September 4th. I physically could not drag myself out of bed. I tried. I couldn't. I kept scrolling facebook with hate in my heart, looking at people's petty complaints and whining about stuff that I couldn't care less about, thinking to myself about how they didn't know pain and suffering and their problems were mere dust under my shoes at this point. I found facebook made me worse. So as I was talking to my mom via facebook messenger, who was trying her best to comfort me, there I told her that I was getting off facebook for good, I was deactivating my account. Because I couldn't handle everyone's "problems" and seeing all the babies being born ALIVE that were due around the same time as Emma was. Everyone's happy healthy living babies and the happiness aura that surrounded their family while I was literally drowning in sadness and despair. So I did just that, I deactivated facebook and refused to answer the phone. It stayed deactivated until my birthday on the 21st of September when I got my tattoo for Emma.

I heard Mom come in the back door some time after I did that, as I was still in the bed and I remember as I was crying, bawling with my face in the pillow so as not to let anyone else know what I was doing. I remember kicking my feet back and forth and how the sheets felt under my feet, and to this day every time I move my feet back and forth on the sheets I go back to that moment. This was an involuntary movement, I had no control of it...I figure my brain was telling me to keep swimming and to stay afloat, but who knows really.

All of Emma's things were still in the babies' room, her bag was still packed, all of her clothing was still neatly folded in baskets and all of her diapers, wipes, and supplies were all arranged neatly under the changing table. The bassinet was lined with her hand made blanket from a good family friend, and her car seat was still strapped in the back seat of my car. When I finally pulled myself out of bed, after Mom came in the bedroom and talked to me...it had nothing to do with anyone convincing me, I was cried out. I had no more tears. I was dry. I was numb again. My emotions had ran out. So I came out and it was all gone. As I had requested, it had all been removed by Mom and possibly Tommy, I don't know...but it was gone. Everything was so damn empty. They had only taken a few things out of the house in the grand scheme of things, but the whole house felt empty. I was empty.

Ever since that morning, I don't think I have ever woken up feeling 'right'. I don't think too much into it on a daily basis, or else I'd never sleep, but honestly, I can't think of the last time I woke up and felt like 'myself'. I'm sure I feel more like myself than I ever have since now but that's only because I am still learning to deal with my grief better and I have Isaac here who I know she picked for me. But still, I can't remember the last time other than September 2nd 2014 when I woke up after the nightmare I had (thats all for another blog by the way, that'll come soon) and decided to start getting ready for the day, after all I had my appointment at 1pm to get my induction date or maybe I'd even get to go in that evening and start the induction process!!

I remember waking up that morning, although I was shaken from the dream I still felt like me and I was still full of excitement, anticipation, and silent love for my baby girl who was supposed to be here by Friday. That's really the last time I remember waking up feeling normal. Not with a mild headache looming, without the realization over and over and over again in the morning that yep...this is still my life. Not with grief and despair still, yep, living in my soul. Of course it exists side by side with happiness and love. Most days they mesh together in some sort of messed up balance...then some days, the despair ebbs up and and like a swell, swallows up the happiness and love. Covers the sun. Pours down the rain. And that's the day at least for a while anyway. I feel like the me from two years ago is dead and gone just like her earthly vessel. I don't even remember what it's like to feel that me. I guess I really do remember it or I wouldn't be talking about it. But its very foggy, like a memory from long ago when you were a child...or maybe something you dreamed and didn't really live.

I don't really know if I'll ever wake up feeling 'right' again. I know its my life, as I said they all coexist, but there's always that portion that isn't right and there always will be. I am fully aware that I may never wake up feeling well rested, without worry, and right again, but I accepted that a long time ago. I will gladly accept that lifetime sentence just for the chance of knowing her. It sounds hopeless probably to those of you who have not been here, but to those of us who are, we gladly accept the bad with the good in order to have had our babies even for that brief moment. We have learned to see the beauty in the most messed up things.

We're the most messed up things.