You awake each day wondering if the shock and numbness of it all will ever go away. You make plans that seem meaningless because now your plans do not include your child. People often tell me that I'm doing great, and they are proud of me for starting my "new" life as if my old life with my daughter was something that wasn't. What "new" life I sit and think to myself? This is not surely a "new" life this is a life in which I am wandering the planet aimless and tired due to no sleep because of the nightmares. This isn't a "new" life---this is what I simply call Hell.
When people refer to grief they often say oh in time things will get better. Or my favorite you will find something to with your life. I did I got a job, I went back to work so my days were not filled with he constant hopeless feeling. The constant dread that not ever will my life be the same. Not ever will I be able to wake up each morning go into Makenna's room and cuddle and kiss her face. Not ever will I get to help her pick out a new dress for a party or blow out candles on a birthday cake---this is not me starting a "new" life. This is me barely living in the old shell of my life I want back.
Don't get me wrong my faith is shattered daily. I often am angry and I cry. I pray that I can have faith knowing she is in heaven and free from pain---however it doesn't ease the monumentous ache I feel in my should that the best part of me is forever empty. That my best feat in life is gone. I long for the cries, the constant hospital stays, the giggles I want all of it back I want my old life back. Because this new life that everyone speaks of is an empty hollow shell of an existence. There's no giggle, no laughter or warm little hand to kiss goodnight.
My new life is a farce. It's just me coping and wondering how I will make it through this year. You wonder where you fun the charge of energy to be happy again, yiu realize that child loss changes your core if who you once used to be. You make steps forward only to find you've been going in circles the entire time. You pray each day for strength to help you get out of bed and go to work and put on a smile. Your force yourself to be normal not dare mention your grief or your sadness. You pray no one ask you "do you have kids?"---because what you say brings you back to the grave. You answer yes I do she is wonderful and pray they ask nothing else of you. You keep to yourself as to not draw attention to the fact that you are part of a new club---child loss and only those in the club understand this viscous cycle of revolving grief---this chronic everlasting hurt and loss. So there's no magic calendar to tell is your time to stop grieving is done. You turn the page on he calendar and wonder will today be today when the wheels fall off yet again. Will my sorrow undoubtedly get the best of me? Will my life ever be the same?