Tongue Tied

Lately I find myself unable to respond to other's blogs, or posts about their loss and their pain.

My words they feel flat, not enough ... the I am so sorry, I wish things were different for you.  It is so insufficient. Those words do not touch the heartbreak that I feel for all of the other Mommas that have lost a child.

But I am so very sorry for you, I wish things were different. If only I was the Good Queen with my magic wand and you had your Ruby Slippers, I would tell you click your heels three times and say, there is no place like home, there is no place like home.....

I want to say, hey it will get easier, but I know nothing about how they will feel tomorrow.

But there are some things that I am beginning to see as certain. Things that can only begin to become reality as time goes by.

One day you will wake up, you will be able to resist the urge to bury your head back within your pillows. You will swallow that lump in your throat and wash your face. Maybe you will fix your hair, maybe you will brush your teeth, but you will start to live again.

Not the same life you had before, you will be more like a puppet on strings in the beginning. The universe pulling you this way and that. Occasionally a string will come lose and your arms will flap down weakly by your side with no force making them useful.

One day you will realize that you have gone hours without tears and that will probably make you start to cry. Because not crying might make you feel as if you have somehow forsaken their memory. But that will never be the case.

You are and always will be a Mother. Nothing will change that. You will always look into the faces of little ones and imagine for a moment, what might have been. You will always question, why me? Your heart will forever ache but one day your heart will feel joy again as well.

You will laugh, smile, enjoy life. Maybe not always but you will find moments where you are so happy for what is there before you. You will smile at rainbows or songs you enjoy. That thing that makes you happy, you will find it again.

I am still struggling to find my happy but it is there knocking at the back door of my mind. Telling me, hey let me in.... some days I think I just might but not quite yet ....soon.

Because of us, they will always remain somehow alive. We carry them with us, like a weight that our bodies have adjusted to. They are forever a part of who we are.

Shock Therapy

As I travel this road of becoming a functioning human being again, I keep thinking as much as I love him would it be so bad to have my memory erased. You know like the old saying, "You can't miss what you didn't know you had"... or something like that.

I think it would go something like this just like in the movies and books.

The screen would be grainy with the occasional sguiggly lines jumping across. Black and white no color.
Swish swhish would be the sound of my hospital shoes as they half dragged me, half supported me down the corridor. My head would sway on my shoulders back and forth, too heavy to carry from all the happy little pills they kept giving me to swallow.
The lab coats would be fitted and buttoned up high, black gloves all the way to the elbows. Nurses would be standing by in sexy little short skirts and little caps that sit above their perfectly coifed hairdos.
"We are ready for you doctor", one would say sweetly.
They would strap me down with my arms out in the shape of a cross. I would gag as they forced the wooden piece between my lips, to keep me from biting my tongue they would whisper as they brushed my limp hair back from my forehead. Little sticky pads would be placed all over my skin and forehead.
They would tell me we are going to help erase all those memories. I won't be able to argue with my mouth full.
I won't be able to tell them, you will have to go back too far. I won't be able to say, you have to take the memories from the very start.
I won't be able to tell them, go back to the very first thought, the day that I told my husband I was ready to try again. They won't know that I need them to erase so much. I won't be able to tell them, I loved him for so long. I wanted him before he was ever conceived.
When the treatment is complete and my skin is on fire, and my mouth is dry and my teeth hurt from biting, they will ask do you know where you are? and I will say, "well I must be in hell, because I have never felt pain like this before".
They will let me know I will require many more treatments.