I feel a lot of resentment and jealousy lately. Honestly I didn't come around here for a month or so, because while I value the community and the outpouring of support I've received from you guys, I get so mad and sad when I see anything relating to babies or toddlers (really, parents and children in general). I can't pass the playground without a breakdown. I can't go to the coffeeshop without a blindfold.
I no longer communicate with close friends that have children, because I can't take it. As much as I need their wisdom and strength, I can't talk to them without secretly hating them because their lives are intact.
Everything I've done with my life has been a failure, it seems. I look at my group of friends, at my peers, and everyone else did what they were "supposed" to do, and now they have the lives they're "supposed" to have. My husband and I followed our hearts and our big dreams, failed miserably, found each other, and by some miracle were blessed with a beautiful son who was ripped from our arms after just 20 months on this earth.
It'll be 6 months he's been gone. It seems like it's just getting worse. I recently found out I'm having infertility issues due to endometriosis, and I can't afford the copay for the laparoscopy that the doc says would give me a small window where conception might be possible.
MIGHT be possible?! We didn't even TRY to have Lucas; he just came! Now we start trying, and we CAN'T??
I will never know why he had a brain tumor, how it got there in the first place, or why the doctors couldn't save him even though his type of tumor was one of the most survivable. I will never live another day without wondering what the hell happened to him, and what my role in his demise truly was.
On cleaning days, we'll be going through stuff and we'll come across a remnant of what our life used to be like. A toy, an object he used to like to play with, a piece of clothing we didn't pack up. It seems like a million years ago, like a dream. We find these little pieces of a life that we used to have - he was OUR LIFE, and one day, poof, he was gone. What do we do now?
I go to work, and stagger through, and I slip out the back door or into the bathroom every hour or so, and just let a few tears out, because they come whether I'm in public or not. I've been trying to meditate, to be Zen about it, but it's too raw. I've asked for peace in my heart, and I'm not finding it. There are not enough drugs in the world to make this stop hurting.
I'm like this every day. I don't see an end.
I no longer communicate with close friends that have children, because I can't take it. As much as I need their wisdom and strength, I can't talk to them without secretly hating them because their lives are intact.
Everything I've done with my life has been a failure, it seems. I look at my group of friends, at my peers, and everyone else did what they were "supposed" to do, and now they have the lives they're "supposed" to have. My husband and I followed our hearts and our big dreams, failed miserably, found each other, and by some miracle were blessed with a beautiful son who was ripped from our arms after just 20 months on this earth.
It'll be 6 months he's been gone. It seems like it's just getting worse. I recently found out I'm having infertility issues due to endometriosis, and I can't afford the copay for the laparoscopy that the doc says would give me a small window where conception might be possible.
MIGHT be possible?! We didn't even TRY to have Lucas; he just came! Now we start trying, and we CAN'T??
I will never know why he had a brain tumor, how it got there in the first place, or why the doctors couldn't save him even though his type of tumor was one of the most survivable. I will never live another day without wondering what the hell happened to him, and what my role in his demise truly was.
On cleaning days, we'll be going through stuff and we'll come across a remnant of what our life used to be like. A toy, an object he used to like to play with, a piece of clothing we didn't pack up. It seems like a million years ago, like a dream. We find these little pieces of a life that we used to have - he was OUR LIFE, and one day, poof, he was gone. What do we do now?
I go to work, and stagger through, and I slip out the back door or into the bathroom every hour or so, and just let a few tears out, because they come whether I'm in public or not. I've been trying to meditate, to be Zen about it, but it's too raw. I've asked for peace in my heart, and I'm not finding it. There are not enough drugs in the world to make this stop hurting.
I'm like this every day. I don't see an end.









No words just prayers....................


