Monday, February 24, 2014

It Comes In Waves

Grief is a strange thing. I remember talking with my sisters just a few weeks before we lost Vi about how you would have to lock us up if any of our kids ever died. I think it was prompted by a Facebook page for a kid who passed away. When I said that I was serious. I honest to god thought if either of my girls died I would have to be put away. There was no other option in my mind. Lock me up. Throw away the key, cause there is no coming back from that. No way. And then, just like that, it happened to me. I cannot tell you how I am still alive. How I am still breathing. How I am still taking care of Lyvi, and loving my husband. I have no idea how I can still smile and laugh. I have no idea how I still exist. But, I do. I always thought that grieving mothers must cry all day everyday. I figured they would need an IV to stay hydrated because they would cry all the moisture out of their body. I have cried. OH have I cried. Do I cry all day everyday? No. Do I need an IV to keep myself hydrated? Sometimes maybe, but not from tears, just because sometimes I forget to eat and drink. No biggie. Do I need to be locked up? Na. Not today at least. I imagine that could change at some point, but for now I am not a risk to myself or others. I can't promise I won't be tomorrow though. No promises. I do cry everyday. I am sad all day everyday. My mind is a jumbled mess of crazy. My heart is shattered in a million pieces. My soul is split in 2. But, I am still here. I even function somedays. I showered today. That's a big plus. I think subconsciously I don't want to shower everyday, because when you have a baby everyday showers are not a thing you get to do. Sleep is a joke. A cruel cruel joke. Violet woke up several times a night to nurse, so I didn't get a ton of sleep. Now I don't sleep because she isn't here. I close my eyes and I am back in that hospital room with her. Or I am on the helicopter trying not to see my lifeless baby. Or I am in the room at Primary's holding her cold bruised beat up body. Kissing her little eyes. Wiping up the fluid that was leaking out of her nose. The back of my eyelids are a movie reel. The worst horror movie you could imagine. The only way I get any sleep at all is with sleeping pills. Just over the counter kind. Screw that ambien crap, I don't wanna sleep eat and then kill myself. Haha. What I would give to be tired because I was up nursing my sweet Violet all night.

Grief comes in waves. I noticed that the day after she died. I would be able to talk about her and what happened in spurts, and then all of a sudden a wave would hit and I was down for the count. It seems like I have a few "ok" (nothing is ever really ok) days, and then the tide comes in and I have a few days where I have to be in The Chair. Most of last week was hard. The day before her 6 month birthday was torture, I knew the next day would be hell. Then the 19th came and I was down. I knew it would be a hard day, but I didn't know how hard. My beautiful friend Shay came over that day, like she does most days, without even needing to tell me she was coming. She just knew it was going to be a hard day, her radar went off and she showed up right when I was going to break. I can't even imagine where I would be without her. Love ya Shay! This was also the day Lyvi hid from me and I honestly thought I had dreamt her up too. Bad bad day. Then Friday came. 3 weeks. 3 full weeks without her. How can that even be possible? Everyday gets harder. Everyday takes me farther and farther away from when she was here. From the last time I held her and played with her and kissed her and nursed her. Time doesn't even make sense to me anymore. The 5 1/2 months I had her feel like the blink of an eye, while the 3 weeks that she has been gone feel like a lifetime. How am I supposed to live like this for the rest of my life? I am swimming through a never ending sea of sorrow.Trying just to keep my head above water, and failing most days. I think maybe that is why I am being pulled to Washington, to sit on a dreary beach. That was one of the first coherent thoughts I had after she died. I needed to leave. I needed to go sit on a beach and scream. Or not scream. Cry. Or not cry. I don't really know why I need to do this or how I will react, but it is something I need to do. So, I'm going to Washington this weekend with my sisters and our cousin, Mindy. My husband made it happen. I love him dearly. Our cousin lives out there with his family and I am so looking forward to spending time with them. I also have a few friends out there that I cannot wait to meet in person. These women are amazing. I met them through Mothering, we all had September 2013 due dates. They have been there for me all through my crazy stressful pregnancy with Violet, through her 5 1/2 months of life, and they have been here for me after this unthinkable tragedy. I cannot wait to see them and love on their babies. I think it will be hard to see their babies, but I also think it will be good. I really think this is something I need to do. I absolutely do not think I will be any better when I come back, but maybe I will be able to breath just a tiny bit better. Oh, and I am getting a sweet ass tat for Vi. Can't wait. Getting the hell out of Dodge. 

Hi sweet girl. God I miss you honey buns. Lyvi woke up this morning and farted, which made her laugh like always. And, then she said "Oh! Baby Vi fart!" You were always so farty in the mornings. She still remembers. You would stretch your little arms up as soon as I unzipped your woombie. Your little belly would look so cute and tiny. And, then you would fart. Without fail every morning. You always smelled like yummy baby sweat in the mornings. Your blanket that I sleep with still smells like you. I don't know how that is possible since its been 3 weeks since you were wrapped in it, but I'm so happy it still does. I had to buy your sister clothes today, and it felt so wrong. I had been planning to buy both of you new clothes for spring and summer. I was so excited to get cute matching, but not too matchy, outfits for my girls. Everything feels wrong without you. I don't think anything will ever really feel right again. I expect that we will find our new normal, but it will always be missing you. Never perfect. I hope you are warm baby girl. I love you forever. You will always be my Sweet Violet. 

And, just for fun. Because it makes me smile. A video of my Vi. Listen close, you will hear a normal Violet fart. I miss her farts so much. And, see her huge thighs and bubble butt. I miss that fat baby so much. Bonus, a little bit of my Lyvi-Loo. I will never accept that her sister was taken away from her. Ever. Love both of my girls with every bit of my broken heart. 

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