So, I'm sitting here watching Scrubs. They're performing cpr on a man and I am a mess. All I hear is the hospital staff counting as they did cpr on Isla. It's been a weird day. I had coffee with a friend this morning, it went okay. I think people are desperate to see some sign that things are better. I see it in people's faces when I laugh or make a joke or something. It's like their faces light up at the thought that I'm not in pain anymore. I feel kind of abandoned when I see their faces. Like they don't actually want to share in my grief anymore, they're ready to move on and be happy again. I feel alone, more than I did right after it happened. I almost feel guilty if I want to talk about it, or if I turn the conversation to Isla, I think I see (not sure, but I think I do) a look wash over their face like "oh here we go again..." and I feel really self conscious about it, and so alone. All I want to do is go into her room and smell her things and squeeze the shit out of her sleeper or blanket, to somehow absorb her into me, to hold her so near me that I don't feel the pain so hard. I just want her back and I am so miserable without her here. The things I do to console myself, or get by each day seem so hollow when I'm feeling low. Baking cookies with Evan is such a joke because he's into everything and I get so frustrated I distract him with some other activity, and end up finishing it myself, and what's the point in that? God I am so tired of the sadness, the missing her, the physical lack of my baby with me. I am so, so heartbroken. I am sobbing as I write this and I cannot believe the depth of the pain I'm feeling. I say I don't want the hurt to go away entirely because it'll mean she never made an impact, which I suppose is true to some extent, but this misery is nearly unbearable to me. I have less desire to be here than not. I know that's an incredibly selfish thing to say and probably seems even moreso to those who've not lost a child, but it is what it is. I am broken all the way through, and though I thought the hope of others who've walked before me was helping, I don't know that it is, and I feel hopeless still. All I want, ALL I WANT is my baby girl. God how unfair this all is. How can she not be here? Her tiny soft smooth little body, her brand new hair and fingers, not to ever feel me, or her dad? Never to hear eachother's voices? Not to ever nurse? Not to ever go to kindergarten or graduate from high school? To never get married, or bear children of her own? It's all too much for me, I feel so unable to deal with the magnitude of it all. Sometimes I can push it away for a while, and feel like I'm doing well. Doing well isn't really that at all. It's just pushing it away until I can't anymore. I am alone tonight, and I think that's why it's so damn hard now. There are no distractions. I had Evan up until 8. He stressed me out so badly I YELLED at him, full bore, and didn't even try to stop myself, though I knew I was acting horribly to him. He covered his ears, and I didn't care, I yelled on. I am a horrible wicked parent to him, and I don't deserve him at all. Now that he's gone to bed, which I needed so badly, I'm at a loss of what to do. I feel antsy and scared to be alone with my thoughts. I want to go sit in Isla's room and hold her, and hear her breathing and see her smile. She'd have been 8 weeks tomorrow. 2 months. God please let tomorrow be better. I am so very unhappy. I want desperately to feel genuine happiness, I know I'm not being very patient, and Isla deserves all these tears, and of course, I grieve for her with all of my soul but I am not strong enough to endure this pain for much longer. I am so tired. So tired, the things that mattered enough to keep me going this long are starting to not matter, and all I want is my baby girl. God Isla, I miss you so much.