AngelMom, TTC

365 days without you…

I remember nearly every detail of that day. I know what I was wearing, and I have trouble wearing those clothes now, though they float like friendly-ish ghosts in my closet. I remember how I felt at any given moment of that gloomy Thursday. I remember how crushing it was to finally know, after 25 days of uncertainty that I was going to lose you. Karate… I’ve whispered to the wind how sorry I am that I couldn’t save you… and I mean it.

Nurses and doctors shuffled in at random, each learning my diagnosis and not one of them knowing what to say or do to help me. Some were kind, some were cold, sterile, others just stood with their mouths hanging open trying to find words to help– there aren’t any– I’ve checked. There were no options, no discussion, and there was no saving you.

As for me, I’ve spent the last 365 days trying my best to cope without you, in the wreckage and horror that was left after that day. Grief and loss, are a moving staircase. Constantly changing, mutating, and evolving. I’ve accepted that I will never truly be “over you” and thank goodness. I’m the only one who ever held you, nothing can change that. Of everything I lost that day, that fact will always be mine. You’re the one that made me a mom, even if you couldn’t stay I am still a Mom.

Honestly, when I opened my eyes after surgery I thought it would be impossible for me to laugh, to hope and dream ever again. I feared being asked even the simplest surface question such as “How are you?” because the only answer I could grasp was “broken and lost” – that’s a little heavy for ladies room small talk with a kind coworker asking as a common courtesy.

Fast forward to present day and I’m starting to feel like me once again even if only in fractional values. In an unexpected turn of events, I really did learn some things in losing you… and finally, I feel like I’m starting to unearth some of the bits of me I thought I’d lost forever.

I feel relieved… and proud to have survived this far and that I’ve turned so much of my own pain into power and hope for myself and others. It’s a funny thing… I would never have chosen this life if it was laid before me, but Karate you’ve forced me into a better version of me. A more mindful and grateful version than the one that once existed before. I think that girl died with you, I’m certain a part of me did that day.

I plan to press on through this ever changing maze in 2018… taking the best bits and pieces of me I can. Hoping and praying for another miracle… one that the world can handle because you Karate, were obviously just way more than the world was ready for.

I found this quote the day after I lost you… I didn’t appreciate it then, I think I wanted to, but the pain was still too overwhelming. It made me smile today, now that I’m strong enough to do so. Lightning will strike again, I believe that.

❤️🧡💛💚💙💜

AngelMom

These eyes….

Current Status

  • Cycle Day: 1
  • Fertility Treatments: None… and likely will go natural this cycle
  • Emotional state: Contemplative

Shout out to these eyes… they’ve been working over time for the last year. They’ve cried an awful lot of tears in this very hard time in my life. They also have to work extremely hard to not look as tired as I truly am. They have to put in over time to hide all the feelings that are not suitable for any given situation I find myself in. It’s not always a good time to let someone know you’re struggling– it’s the eyes’ job to convince them “there’s nothing to see here folks!”.

They hide my pain, my struggle, my jealousy, my rage and my fear. These eyes have a tough gig, for sure. 

Living in this skin, managing the pain from loss, and lack of offspring is tough. Sprinkle in fertility hormones, which not only magnify my own feelings, but additionally cause outbreaks of synthetic emotional turbulence. These eyes really never had a chance! 

Some days I cry over real things that are bothering me. Sometimes I cry over nothing, and everything. Sometimes it’s caused by restraining many things over time to a point where it all bubbles up, over and out. These eyes, have it rough believe me. 

Like every other part of me that has to work hard to keep pushing on, I make promises to my eyes. Just a little farther. Just once more. It will be worth the price of those tears! We are almost there… I promise these eyes, I lie to them to keep them from giving out on me. Hopefully they don’t get wise…. I promise them that if we can just get through this, the beautiful things we will see will outweigh all this pain we have to endure now. 

Perhaps, someday these eyes will gaze upon a chubby screaming baby with eyes like mine…. and I will wipe those tears and have to strain to remember how much it hurt to wait for that moment. Perhaps.