Heart-wrenching, painful. Like a huge, angry wave crashing down around me.
I closed my eyes and started counting, and praying. Begging for release.
I was holding little David's blanket tightly to my chest. I felt so incredibly fragile.
The sobbing I had held in for so long finally made its way out. I hate the sound I make when I cry that hard.
For the first time in quite a while... my arms felt so incredibly empty. With nothing to cradle and protect... except my own breaking heart.
And, just as it's been for the past 7 months... Lynn wasn't here to hold me and give me a blessing.
I had fallen asleep hours earlier, no problem. When I dreamed, that's where it began. I was back in the hospital, holding my sweet little David in my arms, nursing him. I was singing to him, and he looked at me with those beautiful dark eyes. I bent to kiss his cheek, and I started falling. I reached out to hold him, to keep him from falling, too, but he wasn't going down with me. Hands were holding him. Hands I didn't recognize. I cried out, I screamed, I didn't know where he was going. I couldn't make a sound, though. And I woke up, panicked. I had my arms wrapped around my body pillow, one hand clutching little David's blanket. The outfit of his that I kept wasn't in the blanket, and in my panic I started crying and reaching under all of my blankets to find it. When I did, I took great care to wrap them up together, and I clutched them to my chest, burrowing myself into my pillows and crying.
Why now? Why so long without feeling this? Why do I feel so forsaken suddenly? He's happy, he's loved, he's warm, he's with his parents, why am I hurting so much?
... because even though he's happy, I'm still going to grieve. It's not fair, it will never be fair. This isn't balanced. The joy does not equal the sorrow. They're not even on the same scales. They coexist, but they do not "fix" each other.
I do not wish him back in my arms. The choice I made was the right one for David. When it feels good, I'm on top of the world. But when it hurts... oh. Words cannot describe.
All day, I've been having hospital flashbacks. Mostly warm memories, like him being placed in my arms for the first time. At moments, I've felt like I'm going to shatter into a million pieces. I keep going with the knowledge that I will sleep tonight, hopefully with happy dreams or sleep uninterrupted, and wake tomorrow to a new day. A new beginning. I have survived thus far. I will survive, but oh. To never feel empty like this again, to never feel like a part of me is missing. I'm not his mommy any longer... he may not have that bond with me anymore, but that doesn't mean that I won't continue to ache for him for the rest of my life. I don't want him to ache for me, though. I don't want him to miss me, or feel like part of him is missing. I never want him to hurt.
Oh emptiness. I was hoping I would (never) see you again.
just moments after birth. My heart was so full, and I didn't know if I should laugh or cry.
just moments after he was sealed to Dave and Amy. My heart was so full, and I didn't know if I should laugh or cry.