Today, I miss my baby. I wish with all of my being that she were here with me, snuggling the morning away. Instead, I sit here, with the emptiness of longing in the pit of my stomach, the fluttering of sadness constant in my chest. I feel lonely and all around empty right now without her.
Yesterday was a very tearful day. On Tuesday, I didn’t cry at all, and it’s as if the tears needed to escape to make up for it yesterday. Tears on my morning walk with the dog, tears around the house, tears while talking to my mom on the phone, major tears at my first therapy appointment, tears on the drive home. By the end of the day, I was absolutely exhausted. I’m just quiet and reflective today; I don’t know if there will be more tears, but it’s likely there will be. I’m relieved that I don’t have to leave the house for a day, that I don’t have to feel the jitters of anxiety as I prepare to go out into the world for this or that. It has become a somewhat permanent feeling lately, and it’s tough to combat. Today, I’m just trying to take care of myself, trying to be nice to myself, trying to just survive on the downlow. I feel as though maybe I am getting used to the sadness that clings to me… I wake up feeling it, I go about my day with it, and I go to bed feeling it. And, of course, I dream with it too. I do have moments here and there that surprise me when I laugh at something, or talk silly to the dog, etc., but without hesitation, the sadness resumes its place in the first row of my mind. I just miss my baby.
My first therapy appointment went well yesterday; I like my therapist, and we had a good talk yesterday. I’ll be meeting with her again next week. It was nice to be able to just talk about Lucy. It was rough though, reliving the whole situation. I couldn’t stop replaying everything in my head afterward, especially those last moments with Lucy, though technically, they were really all first moments at the same time. I can’t get the images out of my head. And maybe I don’t want to, because it’s all I have of Lucy memories. My therapist was pleased that I am blogging… I think it helps most days, though much of it is just disjointed ramblings from my foggy brain. I will continue to do it though, as it does release a little of my anxiety and tension.
Though it’s been 36 days, I still have so many moments of disbelief that this happened to us. Moments in which the enormity of it all hits me at full force, and I just feel blindsided all over again. Why did this have to happen to my beautiful baby girl? Why did it have to be her who has to miss out on a beautiful life? It’s just so damn unfair. I miss her every moment of the day…