Time keeps going so fast.
Monday night we went to our 2nd support group at the hospital/my old home.
Tim came with me this time, and I was glad for that.
The nurse we had the night Will died was there.
At the beginning of the meeting, she began to speak and the tears instantly came.
Hearing it brings back memories and feelings and something oddly familiar...
and Tim and I are still having one of our more difficult weeks even days later.
But I am so thankful that they have this once a month. Because for one hour I don't feel alone. And I can say whatever I want to say, and be mad, and cry, and say things that may sound crazy to others not in our situation....but everyone there nods their heads and agrees. So either all of those crazy emotions for us are normal or we are all a little crazy.
I don't know how we can go through this and not be, actually.
My favorite phrase from a couple that talked that night,
"We won the s**t lottery."
It was good to laugh out loud. Because every couple sitting at that table, felt the same.
Because for people like us, the reminders are constant and overwhelming.
Pregnant women everywhere.
And feeling like you are the only one having problems having a baby...everywhere.
And for us...with our empty arms and broken hearts...we feel as if we have gotten...nowhere.
After group, we were asked by our nurse if we would like to be involved in a group of parents that will be put together to help the NICU address more of our needs, but for future parents.
We talked about that night with her. And it has been awhile, so I really had to think.
The trauma of it leaves much blurry. But I remember specific things, like scenes from a movie.
And still the hardest concept to grasp, is that we are parents...but yet we aren't because he isn't here with us. The question comes up all the time, "Do you have any kids?"
Well, the other day when I was subbing in a 4th grade classroom, a student asked me just that.
And I answered,
"Yes, but he came a little early this summer so he isn't here anymore. But the blessing is that I get to teach you guys now, and I love to teach."
Then what happens? The teacher calls me last night, because I am supposed to teach 3 more days in her room this week and next,...and tells me that she isn't upset but a parent complained that I was inappropriate telling the kids that. And then she asked that I don't mention him again.
As if I wasn't hurting enough already.
A parent complaining about me? I felt as if whatever living part of me was left, was just snuffed out.
Tears. Again. Overwhelming me. Feeling like I had done something wrong, when all I did was speak of my son. All I did was answer a question. Nothing more.
If someones child died, would they lie that they ever existed?
Every time I answer no, I feel as though Will is looking down on me and thinks I am ashamed to speak of him.
And it kills me.
But I guess that is what I will have to do, in order not to be judged.
In order not to have people tell me that I cannot talk of my child. And in my heart, I know I did nothing wrong. No details were given...
I simply acknowledged that he had lived.
Because that is all I can do.
And now I am left today with anxiety, extreme sadness, and feeling like someone just punched me in the gut...like he just died all over again.
The tears I had managed to stop over the last few days, now flow relentlessly.
And then there is anger mixed in with that sadness,
At how stupid some people really are.
So a decent day yesterday, and then one phone call set me back nearly all the progress I had made in the last week. And I am trying so hard. So, so hard. I really can't try any more.
And now I am just pleading with God...
Please... just make something good come from this. Because I need it more than ever.