It must be because her 4th birthday is approaching.
But, the pain that is always right there, it's inflamed a little...
Nothing, really is different.
And yet I think it is a little more intense these days.
Maybe it is that I have more clarity - this far out...
and apparently clarity isn't good for me...
I cannot gloss anything over... I see with such crispness and sharpness...
Details.
I know I'm over thinking.
I know I need to write it all down and finalize the "report" I plan to hand off to her doctors.
I know I'm devastated that my husband couldn't, wouldn't and never will get behind the ideas I have for making her birthday an "event" - for making something good with her memory and with the energy behind the pain and agony of all we did wrong--
I know next year I'll do it without him and be okay with it...
I know I had something specific to spill onto here but by the time I started writing it left me...
But it wasn't anything more than has been written here. I'm sure it couldn't have been.
My pain is a broken record. My guilt feeds on the ache of my soul. It lives and is strong.
I screwed up and didn't do the best I could have done...
I could have done better...I know it.
I should have ... my God, I should have...
And I know this guilt is robbing me of my life today ...
I know...
I'm trying...
But it is true...it's not made up, it's truth. So what do you do with truth like that?
(and...now I'm remembering the reason I stumbled over here...I think I wanted to walk with the thoughts about how terrified I was that I might loose her before birth - I remember the fear, the concern for "fetal hydrops" -the awful sounding term - the potential for that and how closely she was being watched...
And how cruel it is - I had a miracle baby... Not only did she survive to birth against some scary odds...she over-came a huge surgery like it was nothing...
And then one day...
I held her little, tiny lifeless body in my arms... my arms. my baby. this little thing, tiny little warrior I was just getting to know - I was just figuring out... I was just waking up to...
the little baby I held every night...all night long... her right there, me hoping to get her to where I felt I could see her strength.... six months old, somehow I had the idea that at six months old I'd feel a little more confident that she was okay... ... and who knew, maybe there'd be some amazing new breakthrough and she'd never need such invasive surgery again (I never wanted to hand her over again...I was still soaking in denial I think...but I wanted her as she was and I would have done whatever she needed...I know I would have...)
(March 5, 2014)
