When Alex died, a friend emailed me and asked about him. I was in those initial moments when I feared that my grief would frighten friends away and I told her so. She told me she loved me and that I could trust her to tell me when I was merely engaging in self-indulgent wallowing. She hasn't said anything about it since.
I have been grieving for one reason or another for over a year.
God, to see that statement typed out like that makes me sound so pitiful. And I suppose I am, to some extent. So...
How long is too long? Do I start all over every time the universe steals a child from my belly? Or am I supposed to start off further along down the road, taking less time to travel the path to "healed?"
At this point, I don't even know if I'm really grieving or if I've stumbled into full blown depression. I am impatient with myself and I know others are impatient with me. But at the same time, I can't shake it. I'm not feeling this way out of a sense of obligation to my children. I just feel this way...it's not a conscious choice.
How do I get out of this? Can I get out of this? Is it too early to expect that I could get out of it?
One year ago today I was writing about visiting the perinatologist for our 'preconception consultation.' There was information and conflict, but there was hope. That hope now has a name and is buried next to his brother.
And today here I sit with little to no hope and this blanket of sadness. At one point, I thought I kept it surrounding me because it was comfortable, having become something I was used to carrying with me. But now I realize it's with me not because I want it there, but because it is somehow attached to me...I am not able to rid myself of it.
Part of me feels like it's ok. I keep telling myself that three months isn't that long in the grand scheme of things. At three months out from losing Alex I was still crying daily.
But part of me feels like I'm an old pro at this and I should just be over it already. I mean really, it's not like this is new or anything. So I don't understand why it hurts so much.
I'm going tonight to plant flowers on my sons' graves. I used to go all the time and I looked forward to the catharsis because there are, in my opinion, no better cleansing tears than cemetery tears. I don't do this much anymore because we only have one car and I don't have the freedom to go at will. But I will go tonight and I don't mind admitting that I'm afraid of the tears. I'm afraid of the feelings they will bring forth and I'm afraid of what will be left of me after the catharsis is over.