Target, and Other Minefields

Today is going to be such a bad day...I can already feel it. I woke up and just instantly wanted to go right back to sleep for the rest of my life. I miss him so so so much. I realized a few days ago that the best way to describe the feeling is the word anguish. I hurt for him. I hurt for myself and for Bryan. Everything I do, everywhere I go...anguish. Every day I wake up and he is the very first thing I think of. Oh, I miss him! Every night the last thing I do is think of him. Oh, I miss him! The entire day long I miss him. oh...

Last night, we went to Target - normally one of my favorite places. Now, it's just like so many other places, a minefield. I try to go at odd hours when maybe, just maybe, there won't be so many babies/pregnant bellies, but alas it's Target and there are just no times when it's not full of people. I try to ignore who's around me, but at some point you just can't look at the floor while you're trying to pick out the things you need. And there is no way to control hearing the baby cries - oh, ouch - the moms and dads cooing to little ones - ouch again - or the chatter/laughter of small kids. I try to focus solely on the shelves, but then I turn my head just a bit and catch a mommy waddling by with a huge pregnant tummy, UGH. Last night for some reason, it seemed to be especially "minefield-ish" (I make up words sometimes). There was not an aisle I could go down without a cart with a baby carrier and tiny little hands and feet poking out (aka, my worst nightmare), or with a pregnant mommy. Then a newborn cried, then a little child was singing, then this, then that, on and on. It was like some sort of Alfred Hitchcock version of going to Target as a "babyloss" mama. Let' s just say I spent a large amount of time hiding in aisles just to avoid seeing another baby. (Who cares if I'm pretending to be super interested in male adult diapers?? At least it's not the pregnant teenager with her iPhone and Mountain Dew (don't get me started!)). I even had to leave the line and pretend I forgot something when a woman carrying a tiny little one all snuggled in jammies got in line behind me. (Doesn't she know she might as well punch me in the face than carry a baby boy around me???)

Target is just one more thing I don't get to have anymore. Until you lose your baby, you probably won't understand why it's so hard, but let me tell you, IT IS. It's just SO hard to walk around like a normal person when you know something so important is missing. No one can just look at me and know I'm a mama. They can't see that I carried him for 8 months, went through labor and delivered him. They can't see that I should have a baby sling with pudgy toes sticking out of the bottom. All they see is a woman out shopping (albeit a slightly disheveled, red-eyed woman who keeps ducking into aisles and looking at the floor) with no baby. I didn't do anything wrong and yet here I am, baby-less. And there they are, baby-much (lot's of made up words today). Everywhere I go now I have to contemplate the need of the item verses the chance of seeing babies/pregnant woman. (Do I REALLY need milk? We like water on our cereal, right?) SIGH. 

Maybe that's why today is so hard already. The realization, once again, that my life will never be the same. I will never be able to hear of or see a pregnancy again without wondering why them and not me.  I will never be able to see a family with kids and not wonder what we did wrong and they did right. I will never ever stop missing my little guy. He will always not be here and there will always be someone his expected age around for me to see to compare him to.

One a "totally-unrelated" note: Does anyone know how a person ("friend of mine") can self-induce a coma for the rest of her life??

Don't bother calling me today, I'll be in bed...