Recurring themes

I'm repeating myself. I know. I've heard other bereaved mothers say it.. "I'm just a broken record." And I know most people just talk sometimes because they like the sound of their own voice. Isn't it true that when someone is telling a story, you are just politely waiting for them to finish so you can tell your bigger and better one?

If I'm sick of feeling these things, you *must* be sick of reading about them.

This is like a bad rerun of Full House. You've seen it a trillion times. You know what happens. It's totally lame. But it makes you cry every time regardless.

1. I have wonderful supportive friends. I feel better when I spend time with them.

2. I want my baby, I think about her every second I am with said friends. I smile on the outside, and cry on the inside for what might have been. Their are 3 baby girls in our group, instead of 4. I wonder if anyone else notices. I'm sure they do. But I think it's safe to say I'm the saddest person in the room. I still wonder how the world turns after a baby dies.

3. I pretend those other baby girls are mine, especially the one that's closest in age to Kathlyn. Man, she is so stinkin cute. Trying to crawl. Teething. Sitting up all by herself. Laughing at tickles. Snuggling. Looking all around everywhere at the loudest noise or person talking. Crying when Mommy leaves the room, but so easily pacified by distraction. I just wish it was my little Katie-cat. I'm not trying to be creepy, I just want to know what it feels like to come to a party and have to bring diapers and baby food, and plan what time we arrive and leave based on the baby's needs. I want to hold the baby instead of eat. Oh no no, it's ok, I don't mind. You eat. I'll hold the baby. No really.

4. The drive home feels completely downhill, and underground path to the hell I call home. Waiting for me there is this laptop. I was pregnant for 9 months and all I got was this stupid blog.

5. I have this incessant need for validation of my feelings concerning my daughters death and subsequent birth (that's the wrong damn order, I don't need to remind you, and yet, repeat repeat repeat it I do). I want people to be sad with me.

This may be some new stuff (in case you were sick of the rerun..)

I realized this, this need for people to be sad with me, and yet somehow I never put it into words until the counselors in my group pegged me instantly. I'm an open book. They had me figured out as soon as I walked in the door. This bothered and embarrassed me at first, but now I feel safe there. I didn't want to be there at all in the beginning, and now, I'm terrified of leaving. They keep telling me just to live in the moment, that I've learned enough to cope better now, and don't worry about the future, just today. "The future" being my worry about continued diffculties getting pregnant. Everyone wants just for me to "just do me" right now. Stop worrying. Just wait. Wait wait wait wait wait wait wait wait WAIT WAIT WAIT WAIT WAIT WAIT. Wait for WHAT?! WHERE IS MY BABY?!

That's the thing.. she's gone. Grief stage #5: Acceptance. Check! Got that one down. She's gone and never coming back. There is nothing I can do to change it. I will grieve her forever, with stage #3, anger, coming and going relentlessly as it pleases.

I'm also grieving my motherhood. But there *is* something I can do to change that one. So every day, week, month that passes and I havent regained that chance at motherhood, I live the loss all over again. I'm down on the ground, and when I struggle to get up, feeling dizzy and staggering every time, something pushes me back down and I fall a lot easier now. All it takes is a breeze and I've slammed my face against the concrete again. It gets harder and harder to get back up, and yet I keep doing it. Still waiting. Still fighting. Still falling. Still bleeding. Still breathing. Still living, even without her.

And so that's why I'm terrified to leave my new safe place. I need the structure. They tell me what to do and when, and I am free to talk about nothing but Kathlyn all day every day. They see the improvements, and so last week I heard the word "discharge" and my heart sped. But wait! Everyone's been telling ME to wait. NO YOU WAIT! Don't make me leave! If I don't get pregnant, I'm going to lose my mind again! Who will pick up the pieces?! Am I speaking English?! WHY AREN'T THEY LISTENING?!

Panic.

I'm not saying this in vain:

God help me..