Two months

Two months.  It has been two months since I was sitting here, at my work desk, at exactly this time, debating whether or not to go to the doctor because my baby girl had not been moving that day.

Two months since I found out her heart stopped beating.  I feel like mine did, too.  I feel like someone ripped me apart at my already fragile seams.  I am spilling out, but it’s into a sea of dark water, so no one even notices.

And I can sit here making all the analogies I can type, but nothing will bring her back to me.  Nothing will put her in my arms again.  Karma. Jinx. Superstition. Foresight, hindsight, coincidences.  None of them have meaning.  This just happened.  It is a part of my history, a huge event on the timeline of my life.  It splits my life in two sections – the first is hope, the second despair.  In the first I looked  forward to a bright future, in the second I look back at lost hopes and dreams.

I don't leave the house after work.  I'm uncomfortable in public, I'm nervous around people.  No one warns you of the fear that comes with mourning.  No one prepares you for the paranoia and the constant struggle just to look others in the eye. 

I keep our vows in my jewelry cabinet so I can see them and remind myself that I promised not to leave when I was hurting, and to stay if Matt was hurting.  But both of us are hurting so deeply, so intensely, its impossible to know what to do.  I never dreamed I could hurt this badly. 

I guess I'm having a hard time coming to terms with the fact that this has redefined me as a person.  I was so careful (or tried to be) when I was carrying her - I had someone to care for, and I had to take care of myself to do it.  People look at a woman differently when they're pregnant - even with all the stupid comments and aches and pains, I would take that again over this.  Now I'm a mother of two but still only have one.  This is part of why I'm struggling with what I want to do for a career - I don't know who I am anymore, I just know I'm not the same.  I'll never be the same person, and part of the struggle is trying to find out who I am now.