Winston Churchill

"Never, never, never give up."

How Freudian that I just deleted a question mark from the end of that quote. It actually goes like this:

"This is the lesson: never give in, never give in, never, never, never, never—in nothing, great or small, large or petty—never give in except to convictions of honour and good sense. Never yield to force; never yield to the apparently overwhelming might of the enemy."

Either way, I'm having a little trouble really hearing him right now. Oh, I'm listening. He's got a big billboard of himself chanting to me on the side of the road. But, it's just not working.

I've taken a few steps back. Revisiting those wonderful stages of grief, landing gracefully back in Anger. While writing an email to my best friend the other day, I found myself using the word "hate" no less than twelve times. Not so good. And that was before I got the wind knocked out of my sails.

I do not enjoy confusion, complication and tension. They throw my Libran sense of balance in to a destructive tailspin. While I yearn for freedom and spontaneity in my life, I also need a clear path ahead of me, a relative awareness that all is as it should be. The path does not need to be make of solid concrete, but if there are potholes, at least give me a rope to hold on to.

Cryptic enough for you? I 'm just struggling with finding my way in this post Z world. One day I think I can see a few feet ahead on that path, and then all of a sudden one of those potholes sucks me in. And there is no rope. The "talking about it" rope doesn't work. The "avoiding it" rope is a little frayed. The "move on" rope has thorns in it. The "close the door" rope seems so final and honestly, a bit callous.

I would so enjoy a soft chenille rope to wrap itself around me and just hold me. Give me a big hug and not expect anything from me. Silent, constant, unconditional, true. I want someone to understand me.

Treading Water

I've been struggling, these past few days. I don't know if it was the fact that Z celebrated his one month birthday on Friday. Or if it's just the general mist of sadness I walk through, lately.

It is such a different experience for me, to have all of this openness. The multitude of pictures at my fingertips, the ability to email and text a moments notice. I didn't have that with the twins and I think sometimes it is harder for me now, because it makes it a little bit harder to let go. Not that I don't want any of those things, but it does make it harder.

I am going through the grieving process and I struggle with it. Because of my history of depression, it makes it that much harder. My counselor, who I had been seeing during my pregnancy moved away for the summer. We had started to work on the grief aspect just before
she left, but things changed so much in the last few weeks of my pregnancy and after Z was born, that those tools she gave me were almost meaningless. I wasn't supposed to fall in love with Z,
which would have made this a different path, for me. But, Nathan knocked me off my tracks. I was firm in my resolve until his hurricane blew in and now I am having to deal with this new pain I wasn't expecting.

Just like I couldn't handle waiting that 10 more days until the papers were finalized, I don't know how much longer I can continue to rip this bandaid off and put it back on. I didn't expect to feel like I would need to step away so soon, but I don't think I will be able to move on if I don't allow myself to find closure.

I guess I let Nathan's words infect me a little bit, that I don't care. How could I WANT to step away from him? But, years from now, I would be doing Z a disservice if I met him and hadn't given him the gift of being happy with the life I gave him.

I guess, ultimately, my one hope for all of this, is that Z will know how much I love him. It is all I can think about, worrying "how will he KNOW" if he can't hear me tell him, feel me share it with him, see me show him? But, I just have to have faith that with T&N's love and guidance, he will come to understand it, one day. I wrote his birth letter yesterday and keep pouring over it, hoping that it expresses enough to him. Answers enough to comfort him, introduces enough of me to let him know who I am.

I emailed my therapist this weekend. She will be back in a couple of weeks and I let her know that I need to be on her list of people she sees when she starts back. I'm treading water and I need help. I'm tired of feeling this way and I don't see myself making progress, by myself.

We Will Not Be Bargaining

In the book On Death and Dying, Elisabeth Kubler-Ross introduced the five stages of grief. It is important to be aware that she notes that not all persons enduring grief will go through all of these stages, nor are they always experienced in order. She did state though, that a griever will always experience at least two of these stages. Denial, Anger, Bargaining, Depression and Acceptance.

I am going through an Anger stage. I think I started off with Depression and in the past few days I have been a mixture of the two. I also feel that the depression will maintain a low hum in the back of my head, and heart, for quite a while.

But right now, I have a large swarm of stings pricking me from all directions. Why does that girl waiting at the bus stop with her child get to keep him and I don't get to keep Z? Why do T&N get to be so happy, gaining everything, and I have to be depressed and feel like I am lost and empty? Winners and losers. Why did I have to go through nine months of growing this human being, be cut open to allow him to enter this world, and then not get to benefit from the pay off of holding him, loving him, and seeing him grow? Did I make the wrong decision? Is it too late to change my mind? Why do I feel forced that this is the only right option because of a fool on the other side of the fence? Why can't I hide from reality and avoid going back to any sort of life I had before he was part of the world?

Thoughts of frustration and indignation. Staring off in to space, I wake up forgetting where I am. I look around me to readjust to my surroundings and always feel something is missing. I watched some of the videos of Z's time with us and he feels so far away. It has only been 11 days since I last held him, but it feels like an entire lifetime. I want to sit inside of someone, to be able to feel something. Realizing that I will never hold that baby, ever again, breaks my heart again. How are there still pieces left to break?

Raw

I have avoided really talking in this space. Out of fear, pride, embarrassment, hiding behind the person people think I am. If I have learned anything in this past year, one of the most important things has to be that what I was doing, wasn't working.

I must warn you though, going forward, I may say things that will hurt you, will make you cry, will shock you, maybe confuse you. But, I can't hide behind myself anymore. I need to open myself up to the fact that I have things inside of me that need to come out. Locking myself away doesn't help me become the person I could be, and if he taught me anything, it's that I will never be the same person I was before I met him.

And for that I am eternally grateful.

I miss him with an ache that haunts me. I can still feel him searching, his face grazing my cheek. Watching the video of him having a bath, relishing in getting his hair washed. I have NEVER met anyone so peaceful, so calm and open to the new world around them.

In time, I want to talk about my experience. What got me here, and what I want to do in learning from all that has happened. But for now, I am grieving and am so thankful to be able to do it in the cocoon of my parents home. Mom, you help me just by being there. I love you.