Another Life

Thursday, December 8, 2011

Sometimes the only way I can get through another hour of this life is to try to forget that I was ever a mother.  To try and remember who I was before I had Max.  To forget bath times and wet kisses and warm and cozy towels and cardboard books and soft liquidy foods.  To try and put goofy smiles, bright clear baby eyes, funny monkey outfits and tiny toes out of my mind.  Sometimes the best I can do is to try and shut off my brain and think of myself as an entirely different person.  A person who never wanted a family.  A person who worried that I would lose my freedom and stop having so much fun once children came along.  I have trouble holding the vibration of this person that I am not for much longer than half an hour or so and then when I accidentally let go, the truth comes crushing in on me even harder.  I remember that I wanted to have a family more than anything.  That I wanted children always.  It was never a question in my mind.  That I loved Max from the minute I knew he was going to exist.  That from the minute I saw him, my heart belonged to him.  When I think I can't get through even one more hour, I realize that I have to get through forever without him. The dull pain mostly resides in my chest, shoulders and throat.  It's so hard to take a breath.  I feel like I am going to collapse from the burden of this grief.  A lifetime without Max is far too impossible.  One more day without him makes my heart beat right out of my chest.  This punishment is too much for me to take.  I am ill-equipped for this much pain.  I always knew I wanted to be a mommy and it was SO much better than I ever even thought.  I knew I had an exceptionally easy baby and I felt blessed all of the time.  Plus, oh my gosh, he was so cute!  I want to kick myself every single day for not taking more pictures, not taking more videos.  So much is just in my head. There was an especially cute thing he did where he would look right in my eyes, very seriously, and then smile and start to move his little body and hands around...like he was trying to tell me something.  Then, he would pause and look back into my eyes, for recognition.  Why didn't I ever video that?  I can hardly explain it but it is so clear in my head and I worry that I will lose it.  I've lost him.  I've lost him forever.  This is so hard.

1 comment:

Tamar said...

I am so sad that you are in such constant, relentless pain. I am so sad that the world won't get to experience Maxie's blooming personality and that Maxie won't get to experience the wonders of the world. You and Ted and Maxie are in my thoughts every day. xo

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