Last night was rough. Tears, raging anger, emptiness and hurt.
Sometimes, when it's extra bad, I just want to run away. I want to get in a car or on a plane and leave forever. It typically goes something like this: I hate this! I hate our lives! I can't believe God just let this happen! I'm never talking to anyone ever again, I hate everyone and everything and I'm done.
But, there is no escape.
The hurt is inside my heart; I have no where to run.
So, I do what I can. I scrub something clean (typically while having a rage-fest in my head), I go online to vent to my babyloss friends, or I just go to sleep. (What else can I do?)
Last night, I cried and raged and then went to hide under a blanket on the couch. Mad at the world and God and every person who would DARE have a baby who lived. (That should be us).
Here is the difference between now - a year out - and before - months out: I can pull it together in hours instead of days.
Previously, I would be in a huge slump for days on end. I would just hide away in bed for days, secretly wishing someone would break into our house and shoot me.
Now, I do that for an hour, calm down, and then get up to try again.
That's what happened last night. Today, somehow, I'm doing a bit better.
That's the difference.
My friend Erin had this on her blog a while ago. It's exactly right. As time goes on, the trips back to zero become less frequent, but they still happen all the time and are just as intense; you go right on back to the beginning.
This is my life from now on.