Restless. That's what you become after any pregnancy. Whether or not my child is with me, I still awake in the night to think about her. For some reason I take comfort in waking during the morning hours. I can think, no one can call me for work, and cry if I want to. Usually I read, ocassionally blog. It's a quiet time, the earth is sleeping.
It is those times that I am able to look into myself. Although always self evaluating, and often with judgement, I think about how I have been dealing with the loss of my pregnancy.
Most people would say that I appear to be doing well. I have sold my self confidence to others many times. But then I wonder, how honest have I been? I've done my best to keep busy even though there is not a day or hour when I don't think about my child. Losing her was to really lose aprt of myself. Not my mind, but a sense of innocence of myself. Author Elizabeth Mccracken said it best in her book, " An exact replica of a figment of my imagination" (she tells her own heartbreaking story of her stillborn baby boy affectionately called Pudding) how earth shattering it is to lose this kind of innocence. It is a numbing process.
The damage that this underlying hurt of grief does activates itself when we are stressed. I cannot handle stress the way I used to. The little things in life no longer matter, and the people who worry over trivial, material things suddenly become an annoyance. Even more annoying, are the ones who assume you've lost your marbles right along with the baby. The only way to deal with this to keep walking, rest when tired but do stop to appreciate the roses. The things in life that really matter.
