Broken

There are days where I feel like I'm drowning in my grief. I'm caught in a riptide and being carried out to sea. I can't catch my breath, I'm tired of treading water. I wish I could give up and let the tide pull me out to sea where I could die; to finally be at peace and be with my daughter.

I am so sad all the time, that the only way to describe myself is 'broken.' I am broken. My heart, my soul, my spirit is broken. I have cried so much that I don't even remember what it is like to be happy, not even for a moment. I look at my wedding photos and want to put them all into storage. How could I be smiling like that? Who is that happy person? Will I ever smile like that again? I am bitter and so deeply saddened, there is a giant hole in my heart that can't be filled. When I cry, it's bottomless and huge. I don't 'cry it out' as I've heard people describe their waves of grief. My tears are endless and the waves are deep and frequent.

I view the world through a veil of tears and my entire world is tinted by my daughter's death. Every conversation, every interaction, every action, every breath; all are done through my grief. Kara is in everything I do and say, everything I think and dream. She is always at the forefront of my mind and not a minute of my day goes by without her being my first thought before I respond to my work email, as I'm on that conference call, while I'm at lunch with a client. I wonder if people can see my grief; can they see my sadness, my loss? I live in fear of the innocent question "Do you have children?" because I can't respond without tears. "Yes, I have a daughter who I lost at full term." This is my cross to bear. I must live with this awful sadness all the days of my life.

I miss you Kara. I miss you baby girl, more than anything in this world. I would jump in front of a train right now, if it would bring you back. I love you baby girl.

Infertile and full of grief

I'm still struggling with finding happiness in this life anymore. I can't concentrate, find no pleasure in anything, don't want to see friends, have no interest in socializing. I don't find pleasure where I used to, and it's an unbalanced feeling. When will this change for me? I thought maybe if I were to get pregnant again. But no, we're not to be so lucky this month.

We just learned this morning that our 1 embryo tested abnormal, so the cycle has ended. So have my chances of conceiving until the next cycle, which is mid-January. Although I've tried to prepare myself all week, it still comes as a crushing blow. There was a tiny flicker of hope in the back of my mind, that burned even when I knew the chances were slim. Infertility combined with the loss of my infant daughter is a crushing combination and I don't know how people get through this. Waiting and waiting, trying again, waiting and waiting, only to be disappointed over and over again. And I get older every day.

I miss Kara every single day. Her beautiful little face brings me to tears - I have a difficult time looking at her pictures without losing myself and falling into the pit. Last night, my husband told me he cares about nothing anymore and if he could lay down next to her and just die, he would happily do so. Sadly, I feel the same way every minute of every day. It's a battle just to find the will to live every day. I don't know how long I have to live like this.

Happiness Eludes Me

Since I lost Kara, I've lost my purpose in life. I don't know why I'm here, or what I'm to do with the rest of my life. I am struggling with finding happiness in my life outside of being a parent to a live child, in the event I never am one. How messed up that I clarify what kind of child I hope to parent: a Live one. This is my life now - clarifying that I am a parent, yet not to a live child. My baby is dead. What is my reason for being?

And can I find happiness without ever being a parent, if it comes to that?

I left Mass early yesterday - I was restless and couldn't focus properly. As I left the church, there were two women with baby girls in the back - babies the age Kara would have been now. As I walked by them with my head down, I thought "That should be me and Kara." I made my way to my car and went to visit my baby in the cemetary. When I sit at Kara's grave and realize I may have another 40+ years in which to do this, I am overcome with sadness and hopelessness. I want to lay down and join her; melt into the earth and hold her.

I have some soul-searching to do. I must find happiness again, I just don't know where to start. Just living my life one day and sometimes one hour at a time is the best I can do right now.

Kara's Monument - 4 Month Angelversary

October 4th was Kara's 4month Angelversary.
It feels like yesterday, it feels like years.

We visited her grave on Saturday to see the monument and to honor her memory on this solemn day. We placed a vase of white roses at the foot of the monument. White - for my innocent, pure, beautiful baby.

Her monument is pale pink, with a Celtic cross to honor her Irish name, and a bird from her nursery to honor her memory in our home. The stone turned out beautifully, but as I emailed photos to my family I thought 'how tragic that I'm emailing photos of my baby's headstone instead of photos of her first smile, first tooth, first tummy time.' The finality of it hits me all over again and I am thrown into the abyss once more. My heart is broken. My life is shattered.

I know I must try to live the best life that I can, in Kara's honor. But I'm just not 'there' yet. Some days I can still barely function, and I am disinterested in life in general. I don't enjoy things I used to, and I muddle through my days longing for bedtime when I can escape my reality. When will this change? I know I am the master of my own destiny, so only I can change this. When will I change this? How long until I can look forward to something-anything again? I am pinning all of my hopes on another pregnancy. I shouldn't, but I can't help it. I think that if I'm able to deliver a live, healthy baby I'll have something, someone to live for. A reason to be happy every day, a reason to live my life.

I've come a long way in 4 months. I have a long way to go.

What is My Purpose....?

I just can't come to terms with this new life. I thought I had a purpose - I was finally going to be a mom. I had this little person coming into the world who I would be responsible to nurture and to care for. My life seemed to be on track, if a little behind schedule. I knew I waited too long to have children, but surely a late start does not mean all is lost, or does it?

I'm 40 and my firstborn child has died. There are days when I feel I'm looking over the edge of an abbyss - the deep, black hole I'm looking into is my life. I am on the precipice - and it's terrifying. What is my purpose, if not to be a parent to a live child? I am desperate to conceive again, afraid of failure and a lifetime of 'what if's' and 'if only's'.

If only I didn't wait so long to have children. If only I had met my husband earlier. What if we had married sooner after we met? What if I never have another child? What is my life worth if I cannot mother my child?

These questions torment me day and night. I am listening to a client, privately wondering how old is too old to have children. I am writing emails, all the while wondering if I'll ever get pregnant again. I cannot concentrate on my daily life without obsessing over my future and what it holds for me. Nothing brings me joy anymore - only anxiety and depression.

I know that our lives are what we make of them. But I haven't the fortitude or the will to make my life worth living right now. I am stuck in my grief and mourning the loss of my precious baby as well as the loss of my most fertile years. I don't know what the future holds for me, but I am hoping against hope that I will be blessed with another baby. I need some HOPE and without a child, there seems to reason to be here anymore.