Yesterday was a bad day. And I'll have those. I realize that. But I seriously SOBBED for three hours straight. And I'm not exaggerating, just ask Mr. Barcenas. And it was gross- head colds and crying for long periods of time do not go together very well.
There was a commercial. That's all it took to set me off, a stupid commercial. All about babies firsts. Their first baths, their firsts steps, their first words, and all about how you don't want to miss a minute of it because babies grow up.
My baby never had the chance to grow up. She never had the chance to crawl for the first time, to take her first steps- she didn't even have the opportunity to take her first breath. Seeing that commercial just brought it all back- all that we're missing and all that we will miss. You realize that she might be taking her first steps by now? She might have even started babbling "mama" and "dada." I know that she wouldn't know what she was saying/doing, but it'd still be cute. And it's all of those cute little moments that we are missing. Hell, I would give anything to change one of her diapers right about now. Throw up in my hair? Bring it on! Because those things would mean that my daughter was here, that she was living and that her body was processing and working the way it should.
And you know what got me tonight? I can't remember what she looked like... Yeah, I have pictures, but it's not the same. I can't remember the way she looked in my arms as I held her for the first and last times. I can remember her weight and feeling that her body was warm and then cold. I can remember thinking that she was so tiny and so fragile, and yet so big and solid. How had this seven pound human fit in my body? I can remember the silence of the delivery room, I can remember specifically thinking that I needed to stare and memorize because I wouldn't have this moment again in my mortal life, but I can't remember her face no matter how hard I try. And I feel terrible about it. I feel like the worst mother in existence. I don't even have drugs to blame for my inability to remember- I had the epidural taken out by that point, and I had yet to feel the development of my hematoma so I hadn't been started on a morphine drip. You'd think that a mom would be able to remember her child's face without having to look at a photo.
I've been wanting to share this photo for some time, but haven't known how to. I guess now is a good way and time. Do you see my face? That is a face of disbelief. That is the face of a mother who refuses to believe that her much wanted and prayed for child is gone from the world. And yet, it is also shock, because she realizes that despite how much she wishes, this is not a dream. This is real life. People may think this photo isn't pretty. I kind of like it. It captures a moment of grief. It shows that her delivery wasn't just sad faces and sad smiles. There were so many emotions that we were feeling actual physical pain.
In the beginning, I looked like this for months. I've slowly been able to come out of it, though. I'm learning how to smile and laugh again- to really smile and laugh, to not just put on a mask. But these moments will hit, and they will continue to do so- the disbelief, imagining that these past (almost) nine months have all been a terrible horrible dream, the pain- oh the pain. Sometimes it hurts just as bad now as it did back then.
But I'm doing better than I was, and that's what matters
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