This journey has too many forks...

Unfortunately, the journey of grief and parenting a child in Heaven has too many forks in the road. There are not enough straight-a-ways, not enough curves and turns... the path I think is okay turns into a fork, and sometimes I choose the harder path, or sometimes the harder path chooses me.. and it is a never-ending, relentless, difficult road. It is like I'll never find my way again.

I think I said it best last night at group when I said I feel like that puzzle that has that one darned missing piece... you know, the piece you search high and low for, that you check pockets for, and that you just can't find anywhere. I feel like I have permanently lost a bit of what makes me who I am. Let's face it- what do we do when a puzzle is missing a piece and it can't be found? We toss it out. We get rid of it. In my case, we save the pieces to give to daycare to be recycled into an art project. But basically, once that piece is missing, it is useless. Since Kylie died, I lost a piece of me that will never return. I know I'll be a functioning member of society, and I shouldn't be thrown in a trash can or anything, but I am different, altered, and incomplete. I will be that way until I join my daughter in Heaven and finally get to do the things with her that I so desperately want to do.

The past two months at group have been difficult for me.. I've been feeling and grieving and experiencing more of my pain and grief than I have in a while, and it is a bit overwhelming. Don't get me wrong- my projects help keep me focused and strong and give me a way to connect to Kylie, but so many emotions are brought out, and there is not a moment that goes by that I don't think of her still. I go over and over those two weeks I had with her, partially because I want to know every sound, every taste, every thing... I find myself using Avaguard like it's going out of style when I go to the hospital... and the first thing I do is put it in my hands and hold it up to my nose as I rub it in, and I close my eyes, and I am back in the NICU, rubbing it in as I walk to Kylie's bed, and my heart is racing because I'm so excited to see her little face... I can remember those steps, how anxious I was to get to her side, and how nervous I was to see what the monitors would say... but always with this huge smile on my face because I was a Mommy and my little girl was perfect in every single way- I had a daughter of my own and she was a miracle baby in every aspect of the word. See? In a split second, I can relive ALL of that and more... just from a tiny scent of a hand sanitizer.

So last night at group Ellen went over a list of words/phrases with us, and it was really good for us to hear them.. some of the words?
- poem in my heart
- black hole
- loss of control
- private hell

All of those I remember, probably because I relate closely to them. It is unfortunate, I guess, but the most relatable term is private hell. This is not a pain that other people will be able to understand or comprehend if they haven't been through it themselves. I may look okay and sound okay on the outside, but inside, my life is pure hell, pure torture. Not a moment goes by that I am not crying on the inside, that I am not angry, sad, depressed, upset... every emotion possible.

So I have a lot on my mind, and this journey just keeps having twists and turns, and I get frustrated with people when they don't understand... I just don't know how much more of this I can go through quietly.