Time Heals All Wounds...

No, it fu*k!ng doesn't. You just learn to live with the pain. It's still a huge gaping wound that sometimes opens and spills vile puss and hurts like hell. It's an ugly, unsightly thing that won't ever leave you and won't ever stop hurting. There are days when I don't notice the pain so much, and there are days when I would cut the wound out of my skin with a steaknife to stop the pain. Sometimes I think I can live with it, then I bump it and it hurts like a fiery hot poker stuck in my eye. That bastard keeps hurting for days, until it slowly fades away to a manageable ache that can be tolerated.

I hate my infertility and hate that my daughter is dead. By every other account, I have a great life. A wonderful, loving, doting husband who I'm madly attracted to. A beautiful house on the water with 'vacation-like' views. A wonderful network of friends and family who support me in good times and in bad - who were there for me in every sense of the word when Kara died. I have a great job where I work from home and am paid well to do so. The bonus is that I'm able to attend to the time demands of IVF, which is a huge benefit to me since it's the only way I'll ever get pregnant again. I have a great boss who gives me a ton of space and whose company and guidance I both like and appreciate. SO what's the problem you ask?

My life should be so different right now. I should have my beautiful 1-year old daughter here on Earth, with her father and I. I hate how she was taken from us at 37.5 weeks. I hate that I have a grave to tend to instead of a baby to care for. I hate that I cry almost every day, and can never imagine my life being any different. I hate that I am on my 7th IVF this month, and despite a full-term pregnancy, still have no baby to show for it.

I hate my life these days. I want to sell the house, quit my job and find a new place to start over. (As if that will allow me to get pregnant and possibly have a live baby to show for it.) I hate that I have no control over the only thing in my life that matters to me right now - my inability to have a child. I had a child, I did. But she died before I could give birth to her. How am I supposed to live with this? How does one go on, incorporating this raw grief into their existence so that it doesn't rip them apart every minute of every day?

I had hoped that at 1 year I would have figured it out. Figured out how to live with this festering, ugly wound without it ruining my life. But it has ruined my life, and I am powerless to stop it. I refuse to ignore the pain, the rawness, the loss. It is, she was, and I am still (in love with her, missing her, hurting for her, longing for her.) My life is really nothing without her and I would be kidding myself, deluding myself, if I pretended otherwise.

June 25 ~ Remembering Fionn Today

Today and always, we remember and miss you Fionn.
John & Ines, you are in our thoughts and prayers.
We love you.
Babette, Peter and Kara.

Ines & Me

I flew to Ireland this week to visit my online friend from MISS, Ines.

Thank you for a wonderful time in Ireland. Thank you for being there, for being my friend. Without words, we were able to share our deepest pain, our difficulties, our hopes for the future. I haven't smiled like this in over a year - it felt really good, and right.

Our children would be proud of the friendship we've forged through all of this pain and despair.

Kara and Fionn are smiling down on us today and wishing us happiness.

1 Year Today

I can't believe it's been 1 year since she died. This entire year has flown by in a blur of pain and sadness, one that I never thought I'd live through. The early days were full of anxiety attacks and a constant gut-wrenching sadness; ever-present tears and a swollen face; a need to die, to be with my baby again. A constant feeling of helplessness, hopelessness and a bone deep misery. Through the months the anxiety attacks subsided and the gut wrenching sadness turned to a pervasive grief that has filtered throughout every pore. The tears still flow, and I still have times where I wish I were dead. The sadness is always with me, and I expect it to be so until I die.

But I'm learning to live with the grief that has consumed my life. My whole existence has been changed - molded by the loss of my daughter. I have been broken to my very soul. I have cried tears from the depths of sorrow which I never knew existed. I have known love, the bounds of which I didn't understand before her. I have known longing, the intense desire to cross the boundary between life and death to be with her. I have experienced true suffering, and will forever be sensitive to the suffering of others.

My beautiful daughter has brought my life meaning and depth that I never dreamed of. Her death has brought me more suffering and sadness than I ever thought possible. And yet, if I was given the chance to escape my suffering by never having had her, I would choose to have her over and over again. Kara was and continues to be a wonderful blessing and I am honored to have carried her for her entire life, even if it was only for a short time.

I miss you my love - I miss you with every breath I take, every second of every minute of every day.