I've been reading some of the comments people have been leaving on the blog, and it is truly one of the only things that makes this awful place livable. I feel fortunate (?) to know people, if only via the internet, who are also on this hell-path. It calms me. I think I often get a little panicky that I'm suffering alone here, that there's no one to really talk to about it, to bare my soul to, without qualifying it all first. Or trying to describe everything I'm going through to people who want to be helpful by listening (bless them), but can't understand. I always feel I have to end my sadness on a happy, hopeful note with them because I know they're sitting there feeling so worried, or so hopeless for me, and I can't stand that. I can't stand the pity. When people ask 'how are you doing', what they really want to hear is "fine" or "getting better". Not "well, today has been absolute shit, and I wish the ground would open up and swallow me" or "it's actually horrible, and I can barely open my mouth to speak the words to tell you about it". Nobody wants to hear that. I don't even like saying it. I hate the reactions. I mean, I understand, people are trying to be sympathetic, compassionate and everything, but if I really told them how I was doing, I get the feeling people might secretly be thinking "oh fuck, get over it already.. it's been x months.." I feel like Eeyore when people ask, and I'm honest about it, realizing I rarely say I'm doing "well". I'm often doing okay, which is a good day. Sometimes I'm doing pretty okay, but most often, I'm downright miserable, sad, angry, resentful, jealous and lonely. Not a lonely that is cured with company, but a kind of empty aloneness that permeates to the bone, and feels like I'm the saddest person in the world. It sucks.

So anger. Is this the time when the anger phase is supposed to begin? At 5 months? Because I've been angry like never before. I think I blogged about this last time, but I can't be bothered to go check. Besides, it's what's on my mind, so here it is. I can't seem to get through the day without being pissed off about something. And I'm not talking about being angry about hitting red lights all the way home. I'm talking about seething red anger, and feeling rage towards my husband for killing an ant with my notepad (though this was pretty stupid on his part). Totally irrational anger. I know anger is one of the grief phases, but I don't know if it applies strictly to the loss, or runs over into anger in daily life. Hopefully the latter; then I'm still somewhat normal.
I don't like myself much these days. I'm angry so often. Angry at my son, who is so damn argumentative and antagonistic lately. I seriously think he's somehow irreparably traumatized by it all. It's not an outward display of grief, or mourning though (or maybe it is. I have no idea what's going on in his 4 year old head). It's more like a reaction to our behaviour. He is aggressive, uncooperative, disrespectful and stubborn SO much of the time, it drains me mentally and emotionally by the end of the day. Completely. Sometimes, I just want to crawl into the bed, pull the covers over and leave it all behind. I really do. That sounds so amazing. But then, I'd be totally alone, and that's worse. Even when he's being an asshole (sorry, I really do love the kid) at least he's there, and I can reach out and touch him. He's real. Yeah, I'm a total head case, you're all thinking it, I'm sure. :)

So... for those of you who are reading this who've had infant loss, did you reach a point where you thought you just weren't coping? Where more of your day was bad than was good? What did you do? Did you talk to someone? Or is this just my new life, and I am yet to discover it? How long does this anger phase last? I am so sick of being me, I just want to be someone else for a while. Someone whose most difficult part of the day is a burnt casserole... or being stuck in traffic.
I am so beaten down from feeling sad. From grieving my little girl. From being on the verge of tears while everyone around me goes on with life, thinking I am too, when I am truly not. I am in a glass box, watching it all, in it all, yet so incredibly alone. I hate this.

Sorry this is so melancholic. I am trying to think of positive, hopeful things to say to stop those who read this from freaking out thinking I'm about to jump off a bridge. But it is what it is. Some days there is just no point in pointing out the positives. They just don't matter sometimes. I'm not just having a bad day. I still can't believe this happened sometimes. What a god damned rip off.

PS..
it feels really good to write again, and I'm sorry I stayed away so long. I don't know why I've avoided it. Maybe I thought it would all go away if I stopped thinking about it.
Silly girl. I should know better.

So, it's been a while since I wrote, and I can feel that I'm running a bit from it all. We've moved provinces, which has been an experience and continues to be, daily. We haven't unpacked Isla's things onto her cabinet yet, I'm not sure why. I think I'm 'waiting' for something, I don't know what.. for the house to be 'ready', or something... Either way, I'm feeling fidgety, angry, anxious, depressed, angry, sad, hopeful, lost and did I mention angry? It's been difficult. Evan's been a nightmare. I feel horrible saying that, beacause I should be grateful etc etc.. but he's been just awful. Disagreeable, antagonistic, argumentative, all of it. Almost all of the time. I think it's a combination of boredom, adjustment issues, possibly grief, though I don't really think so, except in a possible reaction to our grief. I feel wiped, spent and just Done. Capital D. I want very much to be grateful, for this opportunity to start our new life here in the Kootenays, which holds so many amazing memories for me, and feels like home no matter how long I've been away. I want to feel hopeful, that our future holds many good things, in spite of the awful blow we've been dealt. I believe these things are possible, yet every time I feel like I've progressed on this stupid grief journey, and that I'm healing, I seem to fall 2 steps back. I know this is the jagged reality of grief, and on paper and in studies, it makes perfect sense, but to be the actual person on the roller coaster, experiencing it, without knowing what's around each bend is so emotionally draining. It makes it so hard to enjoy a good day when it comes, because you just *know* that something awful could be lurking beyond... I realize this is all very pessimistic, and I don't care. It is what it is. I *am* in fact very grateful for what I do have. I touch Evan often, cuddle him constantly, and enjoy most of our time together. But it doesn't ease the pain I feel for Isla's loss. And it's been a wretched week there. We've just passed the 5 month mark on the 15th. We don't have our support group anymore to help us through these difficult milestones. Five months. Starting solids. Maybe having a bottle now and then.... hair bows and barrettes in what I'm sure would have been wavy brown hair. Cute Easter dresses, tights, and little shoes. How long will I go on recognizing these missed moments? Will it be forever that I think of Isla, and what she'd be doing? How old she'd be? What her voice would sound like? Probably. I'm supposed to believe that this is the way that I remember, and keep her memory alive; by imagining these things, etc.. and in fact, I think I even stated that myself once. But, really, what it really does is remind me of the enormity of my loss. The fact that an entire life of joy, love and potential has been washed away. We are left to forever wonder what 'would have been'. And that's awful. That's where the dreadful loneliness sets in. Where everyone has acknowledged what a tremendous loss we've endured, appreciated what they have, and moved on to ponder what to make for dinner, we are stuck. We don't get to just shake our heads and say the profoundly ignorant things people say, like "you're so strong, I couldn't handle it" and just go on our merry way. We must endure it daily, for the rest of our lives. And that's another thing that really pisses me off. When people say things like we're strong, and they couldn't handle it I just want to shake them. Do you think I thought I could handle it either asshole? Or wanted to? I sure didn't ask for this. And what would you do exactly? Jump off a bridge? Leave everyone else behind? It's such a slap in the face to say something like this, as though it's a fate I've chosen. I'm not strong enough either, but somehow, I have no fucking choice. So stop telling me how strong I am. Nobody whose been through something like this appreciates a comment like that. Maybe after I've run a marathon, but not after I've experienced the death of my child. Strength has nothing to do with it.
I miss you sweet Isla. I know you'd have been the most beautiful 5 month old out there, and you'd have fulfilled us completely. We miss you so very much, every day, all the time. You were such a special baby girl, and we just wish so much you were here in our arms. How we ache for you my sweetheart.
xoxoxo
mommy.