Three Months

I never thought I’d make it this far.  Three months without my baby girl.  Three months post-partum.  I was supposed to just be starting back to work, not here for 6 weeks already, still hating it, and going on multiple interviews trying to desperately find a way out.  I was supposed to be sorting through Coraline’s newborn clothing, donating or saving it for the next one, not avoiding her room and procrastinating about boxing up all of her things.  She would have been starting daycare.  She would have been smiling, and laughing.  

Have you ever felt your heart snap in two?  I swear I can feel it every day.  When I reach in my pocket and allow myself to feel that brick I’ve been carrying around.  I never forget it’s there, but when I allow myself to really reach in and examine it, I break.  I've made progress, I know I have - but I still feel irreparably broken.

I apologize to her every day.  For what happened, for not constantly being sad.  Three months and I’ve made all these stupid plans.  All these things I want to do.  Things that don’t really matter on one hand, but that I feel need to be done.  No matter what I do I will feel guilty.  Part of me wants to take the rest of my life and devote it to doing all the things I should, to become the person I would have wanted to be for her – a strong role model, a positive person, etc.  I should do all the things she never had a chance to do.  The other part of me feels I should just disappear – hide inside myself and devote all my time to thinking about her and basically shunning my own existence.  This is the battle that rages inside me.  The constant struggle of what is appropriate or right or good or positive.  

I just wanted to hold her.  I would give my life just to hold her again.