I am not well. People don't know what to ask me, so they ask me if I'm ok. It is such a stupid thing to ask someone who's child just died. I get it though, it doesn't bother me or make me mad. Before this happened to me, I'm sure I would have asked a bereaved mother if she was ok. She wouldn't be ok. I am not ok. I don't know what to say when someone asks me that. I used to just say "I'm breathing," but that never felt right. My sister and I were talking about this the other night. We have a really dark personality, we laugh about things that we shouldn't. Angie said "I am not well!" about me, in her fake southern accent. It made me laugh. A lot. A lot more than it should have, and more than I've laughed since all of this mess happened. (Well, except for that time my dad came downstairs in his ridiculous Hawaiian shirt in all seriousness to go get his tattoo for Vi. But, that's a story for another post.) I have decided that is going to be my answer from now on. I am not well, BUT I appreciate everyone asking and checking on me. Truly, I do. I know it's hard to know what to say. I still wouldn't know what to say to someone who's child just died. Words don't suffice. There are no words to explain it, and no words to express your sorrow and genuine concern. I know that. I don't hold it against people for words failing. This paragraph is a little off topic, but I needed to get it out.
I can watch videos of Violet now. That's a newer development. A step, I guess? I opened up the video folder on my phone and was browsing videos, and then they ended. All of a sudden. Just like that. It caused a new sadness. A deeper, harsher, weigh me down sadness. I felt so heavy and so very, very sad. It took my breath away. How is it possible that I will never have a new video of her? How is it possible that I can't just open up the camera on my phone and record a new video of her? She would be crawling by now, my phone should be full of videos of her crawling. It's like my mind is slowly taking down the defenses. Slowly allowing it to sink in, because if it sunk in all at once I would die. My brain would implode, my heart would literally shatter, and I would die. It's too much for a person to handle all at once. So, slowly it is starting to sink in. The video folder hit me by surprise. I never open that folder, I always just go into the camera roll where the pics and videos are mixed. Something about that video folder being so small hits me hard. I can never record Violet again. It is sinking in.
I'm scared for March 1st. It will officially be the second month without Violet. She died on January 31st. She didn't live a day in February. And, now she won't live a day in March. Or April, May, June, and July. She just got here. I just got her. It is so unfair that I don't get to have her anymore. I miss her so much. Watching the videos just makes me realize how quiet it is without her. Lyvi is loud. The dogs are loud. My nephews are loud. Tv is loud. But, it is still so quiet without her. I don't get to hear her yelling baby profanities at the butterflies on her bouncy chair. I don't get to hear her screaming back and forth at Rich. I don't get to hear her laughing at Lyvi. I don't get to hear her crying because I laid her down so I could go pee. I don't get to hear her grunting herself to sleep. It is so quiet. But, at night when I lay in bed awake all I can hear is her struggling to breath. The beep of the machines. The words "start compressions." My screams. Audrey telling me "Mama we're not looking good, I don't think she's going to survive this." The helicopter. Asystole. My screams. Over and over and over. My mind is never quiet. What I wouldn't give to have a quiet mind, who's only concern was getting a few hours of sleep before having to wake up to nurse a sweet healthy baby back to sleep. I hope I am hyping myself up, and that March 1st won't be any harder than any other day. Something tells me it will be a hard day. Every new month of my life is another month without her. It is sinking in.
The warm weather is hard. Violet was born at the end of summer, she only ever got to go outside in the warmth a few times. We went to the park today. There was a baby in the baby swing. That should have been Vi. She would have loved the swing. I know it. She was such a wild little thing. I should have taken her down the slide for the first time. We have pictures of Lyvi's first time on a swing and a slide. We will never have pictures of Violet's first time on a swing and a slide. She will never get to sit in the sand and try to eat it. She will never get to chase after her sister and try to keep up. She will never fall down and scrape her knee. She will never get to play at a park. She will never get to experience spring. She barely got to do anything. It is sinking in.
Violet. Violet Violet Violet. If I say your name enough maybe you will come back to me. Maybe the universe will come to it's senses and realize it made a huge mistake. It has been so long since I was able to love on you. Why did you have to go away? Why couldn't you stay with me. I was looking through pictures like I do every night and I saw the picture of Lyvi's weird toe nails. It was the monday or tuesday before you died. I called the doctor and was going to try to get her in that day, but decided it wasn't a big deal and to make an appointment for friday so your dad could come with us. You had just barely started to cough, that stupid insignificant cough. What if I would have gotten her in that day? I bet your doctor would have tested you for RSV and the flu. Would you have already tested positive for the flu? Was that tiny insignificant cough the start? Maybe it was. Maybe you would have been given Tamiflu and maybe you would still be here. Instead I decided to wait until friday. And, then on thursday your cough got a little worse so I called and they fit you in right before Lyvi's appointment the next day. You never got to go to that appointment. You were already in the hospital trying to stay here with us. These what if's are eating me alive sweetheart. I just don't understand this. I don't get it. It is sinking in, and I don't want it to. I don't want to fully understand that you are gone. I just want you back. I would give anything. Take me instead. Pull some strings where ever you are, tell them your mom just wants one kiss, one hug, just one minute with you, and then I will take your place. And, you can grow up with your sister and daddy. Please honey. You shouldn't be dead. You just got here, how can you possibly be dead. I'm so sorry. I miss you fat baby. So much. I hope you are warm and happy. I love you.