Missing Maxie

I woke up to use the bathroom this morning at 3:30 am and didn't fall back asleep until 5:30.  I couldn't stop thinking about Max in the hospital.  He was hooked up to so many machines - to help him breathe, to monitor his heart, to monitor his brain activity (of which there was none), IVs.  Looking at my small child (MY CHILD!) lifeless like that on the big, big hospital bed is a nightmare that will stay with me forever.  It is part of my post-traumatic stress.  The scene of Ted and I saying our goodbyes to Max plays over and over in my head.  It might be too much to read about.  I know it is too much for me to think about (but I can't help it).  We had to watch our child die....understand?  We had to be by the bedside (sometimes in the bed) of the little boy we CREATED and watch him die.  When you wonder why I am not over it, remember how many pieces there are to this story of ours.

To be honest, I am losing hope.  Just when I think I am in the darkest place, it gets darker.  I can't think of anything other than "How can I live one minute more without my beautiful baby?"  The solution seems to be a combination of hardening my heart, numbing out, distancing myself further from life, accepting that he is gone, accepting that it is over.  I want to stop feeling.  While I intellectually know he is gone, my heart won't accept it.  It is too dark.  I am searching for him everywhere - in meditation, in prayer, in my dreams.  Where is my Maxie?  How long can I sustain this hell before I break for real?