Today is International Bereaved Mother’s Day… I know I should be grateful for a day that recognizes women like me who’ve lost their whole world in the blink of an eye when their child died. I’m afraid all it’s done this year, this first year, is send me spinning further into the sadness that continuously surrounds me. There have been a lot of tears this week, a lot of overwhelming, harsh emotions to contend with, and if I’m being completely honest, I should admit that I am not winning against them. There has been an abundance of reminders of what I’ve lost when and since Lucy passed away; everywhere I turn this week, there’s something to add to the pain of this unbelievable loss. As the time has ticked by, I continue discover more and more that I’ve lost.

Today, our neighbors are enjoying a family gathering, and all I can hear are the happy squeals and laughter of their children outside. Their sounds of unbridled happiness and the carefree way everyone is strolling around in the yard next door are simply reminders that it is not us… there is no simply joy in our home, or in our lives. Terrible as it is, I honestly wish they’d shut up and go inside. What hurts the most is that Chris and I are on the outside looking in, in every aspect of our lives. I chaperoned a trip to the zoo on Friday with a group of students; the old me would have absolutely loved it, but the ‘new’ me absolutely hated it. Because who else goes to the zoo on a weekday besides school groups? Yep, you guessed it: parents with very young children and babies. Lucky me. There was a little girl in a stroller, probably about Lucy’s age, and I found myself first shamelessly staring at her, and then I couldn’t get away fast enough. It physically hurt to once again be reminded that a trip to the zoo is something else I will never get to share with Lucy. On the bus ride back to school, I observed a student and her mother (who also chaperoned the trip) simply chatting and bonding; her mom kept getting teary-eyed at each mention of the Senior prom and her daughter’s quickly approaching graduation. I had to turn away, pretend to stare out the window, and try to get a grip on myself as hot tears sprang from my eyes and rolled down my cheeks. More experiences I will never have with my own daughter. Everything hurts. My mind and heart are so damn tired, and I am struggling terribly.

I made the mistake of scrolling through Facebook the other day (when will I EVER learn?!), and discovered that an ex of mine and his wife welcomed their third child into the world… a girl with exactly the same birth weight and length as my Lucy. The words ‘jealous’ and ‘distraught’ don’t even begin to cover it. It was such a trigger that I simply could not get over it. Why them and not us? Why not us? I felt bad enough that I popped half a Xanax and chased it with a shot of vodka. Though that is not typically my go-to behavior when things get tough, it’s what calmed me down in the moment. Part of me wanted to do a whole lot more. Chris walked in afterward while I was compulsively eating and wiping more tears off my face. I no longer attempt to hide it from Chris when I am teetering on the edge, and at least he sees me and accepts me exactly as I am. Normally I would be ashamed to admit something like that, but I’ve reached a point where sugar-coating the situation is just not feasible anymore. This life after loss absolutely sucks, and I cannot see past this wall of grief and sadness. I am absolutely miserable, and nothing is changing right now… it feels like I am in a holding pattern and I can’t break free from it.

A trifecta of difficult stuff is weighing on me. Mother’s Day feels to me far worse than Christmas did; just thinking about it sends me into an even darker place than I’m already in. The reminders are everywhere. Lucy’s nine month milestone day is Wednesday. On Thursday, it will have been 39 weeks since she died, which also means that we are very quickly approaching the mark at which she will have been gone for longer than she physically existed. How can this be? As time continues, I discover more and more pieces of me that died right along with Lucy. I am not who I once was, and I don’t know who I am right now. I am a shell of my former self. For every moment of semi-normalcy I experience, there are a thousand more painful moments to counter it. I feel very alone, very isolated. The new normal has become simply feeling terrible. Work drains me and leaves me feeling even more desolate and hopeless. My patience is thin and my tolerance short. There is a small part of me that maintains the hope that maybe someday a change will come, that maybe joy will coincide with the bleakness. It feels like I may wait for quite some time for a spot of true happiness. The only thing keeping me afloat right now is my relationship with Chris. Without that man, I would surely be lost. Of that I have no doubt. If nothing else, at least we are on the outside looking in together, at least we have a love that is unshakeable, even through this insurmountable obstacle we’ve faced these past nine months. How long can I go on feeling this way? I can’t remember what it was like to smile a genuine smile, and I’ve certainly forgotten how it feels to be in love with life. Perhaps things will feel slightly better after Mother’s Day.