I really didn’t like the tumblr format for wordy journaling. So I’m here now. I’ve started this blog from the day of my daughter’s death. I will link to my previous blog in case anyone has a burning desire to read about my first experience fostering a baby, and the happy, ignorant, and blissful, pre-loss pregnancy posts. I plan to blog a lot more now. It’s all I have as a means of release. The only person truly grieving my daughter with me is my mom. Everyone else thinks of her as just… just a fetus. Just a disappointing event in life. Something I can rebound from, something I can shake off.
So I don’t exactly expect many people to be reading this. I’m not looking for a huge audience, or any audience for that matter. I’m just looking for a way to document this grief, to make it real, the same way I look for ways to make her more real to the outside world, as real as she was to me.
It’s Christmas Eve, and I feel that it’s almost a criminal act that I’m being forced to move off the couch or acknowledge this holiday in any way. I get it, everyone wants me to “try”. But try to what? Move on? Forget that my baby is dead? Forget that my heart has just been completely and absolutely shattered? If she’d been 2 years old, or 5, or 10, would people still expect me to get up, and eat, and breathe? It’s been ELEVEN days. I wake up every day shocked that this reality exists. I hate every minute of it. Does anyone understand that this was my child who died? My future? My everything?
It’s coming on Christmas
They’re cutting down trees
They’re putting up reindeer
And singing songs of joy and peace
Oh I wish I had a river I could skate away on
At least the weather is cooperating with my heartache: