That’s how I feel.
I guess losing a child does that.
My baby is gone and I feel like a completely different person.
I can’t stand to look at pregnant women.
I feel like I’m being stabbed in the heart every time I see a pregnancy announcement or an ultrasound picture.
Babies just make me sad. Make me feel my loss a little bit more.
It’s shattering and refreshing when my kids bring up Lincoln because besides my sister and husband, no one does.
I hate that the only time I get to hold my child is when I bring out his urn. The only way I can give him a kiss goodnight is by kissing a wooden box.
I feel guilty. Like this is a punishment for something I did. That some action in my life caused this big shit storm of karma to catch up with me and it took my child. Because ‘Bad shit just happens’ and ‘Everything happens for a reason’ aren’t good enough excuses.
I’m angry that I didn’t cherish the time I had more. Had I known he would be gone in such a short matter of time, I wouldn’t have cared about all the groin pain, backaches and heartburn.
I wish, when my sister told me to take more care of my ultrasound pictures, I didn’t brush her off with an ‘it’s not a big deal, I’ll be getting more in a few weeks’.
I hate that I lulled myself into thinking that my pregnancy was safe because I made it past 6 weeks and had no complications so why would I know? This one is a double-edged sword though because I will NEVER have a carefree pregnancy again. I will never just assume that because I made it past 12 weeks that I’ll come home with a living child.
12I feel different, like I’ll never really be whole again. I feel broken. And angry and shafted. I’m bitter and jealous. I hate every single one of these feelings and yet they’re always there in the back of my. Waiting for just the right time to surface. To ruin a good mood. To turn me into this person I never was before I found out my baby no longer had a heartbeat.