November 8, 2013
The blog post that went live on the website yesterday was written four weeks ago. When Sofia would have been four weeks old. This means she would have been eight weeks old today. And I feel as though I was in a better place four weeks ago than I am today. And it’s all because of that damned meeting on Wednesday. And while I feel a bit better than I felt yesterday, I’m still very angry, and very hurt, and so very, very sad. And while I know I will get past these feelings eventually, it’s hard because all I keep thinking is how they killed my baby. And I know that’s not fair. I know they thought they were doing everything right. But I also know that they should have seen that my placenta was small. How many ultrasounds did I have? I’ve lost track; I can’t remember. It was a lot.
And so I’m angry. And my heart aches. And I’m so very, very sad. And I wasn’t angry four weeks ago. And this weight wasn’t so strong on my chest. And I could let the sadness sit next to me from time to time. I’m having a hard time with that now.
I didn’t cry as much at work today as I did yesterday. But I still did. And I still spent some time curled up on the floor with Sofia’s blanket between my cheek and my arm as I cried.
Next week I really need to get more done off of my to-do list. People are starting to ask about things. I’m approaching deadlines. But right now, I don’t want to do anything. I don’t even really want to write. (You can see that I’ve forced myself to do that. And I’ll force myself to write some more. I’m only a day ahead of where I should be for NaNoWriMo. I have to keep writing or else I’ll fall behind.)
But at least it’s Friday. I don’t have to go to work tomorrow. I don’t have to do anything tomorrow. But I will. I’ll still write. And watch some Hulu. And cry. And breathe. And wait for the scab on my heart to regrow so that it’s easier to let my grief sit next to me again.