Drowning

Words are so inadequate.  Grief, Sadness, Anguish, Despair.  All inadequate.  Phrases aren't much good either "New Normal", "One breath at a time", "Rainbow Baby", "Baby Loss Momma (BLM)".  They are all weird sound bites that make no sense to my ears.  They make even less sense to my heart.  Most days, I feel like (no, I KNOW that) I don't have what it takes to get through this.  I know that I don't have it in me to go through life like this.  I am paralyzed and I don't have enough support (is there even such a thing as enough support).  Once a week Ted and I have a grief counselor.  Once a week, I see someone on my own.  I am so lucky to have Ted, but remember that he is suffering too.  (In the earliest days, people advised us to "lean on each other"...a complete impossibility but I am sure a very nice image in their minds).  I have 2 or 3 friends who I see once a month or so (part of this is my own fault.  The majority of my friends just don't reach out to me.  Most of the other ones I know well enough to know that they wouldn't be much of a comfort and I want to spare them the effort.  Although, like someone banging their head against a wall, there are a few that I keep reaching out to that aren't there.  This week I decided to let them go.  If they are meant to come back in the future, they will).  I have other friends that I get very nice emails, texts, blog comments and voicemails from.  They are important communications that help keep me going.  I have my parents but they are in deep amounts of pain and they also have their own lives and I just don't think they are equipped for this either (who is really?).  I sort of feel like it is time for me to join a support group but just hearing another person's story of loss crushes my soul.  I despair thinking - Why is there so much pain in this world?  When I think about Max (which is basically all of the time), my whole chest tightens up and I can't stand being here.  Truly, I can't stand being here.  The alternative is not to think of my baby and that is even worse.  When I wake up, I know that I can't make it through another day but every day I make the decision to stay here one more day.  I stay here because there are a few hours in the evening, when Ted gets home, where I sometimes smile.  I stay because I am too scared to figure out how to leave.  I stay because it would be a dishonor to Max's memory to leave and because he deserves to have people here on earth who love him more than anything and will fight to keep his memory alive.  If Ted and I weren't around any more, I fear that all Max's memory would be put away on a shelf and never brought out again.  I won't allow that.  I stay because it would inflict even more pain on those people who love me, even if they cannot really be here for me.  I stay because there are probably people who think I am the strong person I used to be and will think that if I "checked out", maybe when things get hard they should also.  I would like to eventually be a role model for others who have to experience tragedy in the future (because, like it or not, I am not the last one we know who will have to go through a terrible, tragic, catastrophe).  Even if it gets easier with time (because some people say it does), the thought of going through life, even with flashes of this pain, it's too much for me to even think about.  How does anyone survive the death of their child?  I really don't understand.  I know that I become more functional every day but functioning isn't living.  Really, I am not actually living.  I am drowning and I can't figure out how to come up for air.  Another Saturday.  Ted's home.  I am grateful that at least I today, I won't be so lonely.