It's been nagging at me, my last post. I think what I meant to say is... I wish there were some kind of sign I could hang so people understand that it's me, not them. I have screwed up playdates and birthday party invitations because I'm forgetful and distracted. I am quite sure there are several moms in my neighborhood who think I'm a complete idiot. But they don't know. And how do you tell them? What kind of conversation is that?
And at the same time, I don't want to burden everyone with our loss. I don't want to be defined as 'the crazy lady with the cord-strangled-stillborn.' I know two years have passed. I feel it. I see two year olds and my heart hurts. I see my girls growing older and know that once my littlest goes to kindergarten, that's it. No more toddlers.
It's dark in here. I am working with a counselor and taking medication to help with the lows. I practice yoga. I am eating clean and intentionally. We keep busy. I recently finished the playroom and the girls are thrilled with their new, productive space. I pray, but I can't go to church yet. I weep so uncontrollably that it is very uncomfortable for me and those around me. The doctor's office terrifies me. The thought of being in a gown and being on a table paralyzes me with grief and trauma. My mind and body instantly flash back. I can't look at ultrasound photos or even think about them without welling up. I can't even go to the dentist. It's too sterile and hospital-like.
Maybe writing about it is good.
Today is Sunday. It will be beautiful and cool, a wonderful late summer treat. We might take the girls to the zoo. One day at a time, I tell you.