I could be sappy. I could be hurt. I could be jaded.
But I am just lost.
I hate you.
I hate you for not being here. I hate you for leaving us. I hate you for breaking my heart. I hate you for dying.
But I love you beyond measure and the hate just ebbs and flows, grows and wanes.
I can’t stand seeing the sadness in her eyes. Colouring every moment within her reach. It’s not fair that we broke her. You and I. Together. It all went wrong and fell apart. We broke everything.
Yesterday was Mother’s Day. I spent most of it trying not to think about you. Trying not to hurt or cry, to be happy for Tara and joyous in what I have. But how can I be fully entwined in Mother’s Day when one child is missing? When one half of my Mother role was ripped away? When there was no card with your name upon it?
Don’t get me wrong, I adore your sister and I loved the day I had with her, cuddling on the couch, going out for brunch, unwrapping the charms of T and A… but there was a gaping big hole.
I have realised I become startled when some words cross through my mind. It just happened right now reading the word Stillbirth. I found myself not breathing for half a second and the words register in my mind. Still Birth. Still at Birth. Dead. You. Me.
My heart has been frantic. It’s the lead up, the anticipation, the subconscious worry about nothing, everything. The taste of the panic rolls around in my mouth. Metallic as the lungs and heart work over time trying to get ahead of the fear. The fear of … remembering? Forgetting? Forgetting and then remembering… 12 months is coming so fast.
I am constantly overcome by the desire to hurt when I feel overwhelmed with thoughts of you. I don’t know why. I do not understand. It will be something to talk over with the new psychologist and my counsellor at SIDS and Kids. I have felt that way before… a long time ago. I have not gone that far… of making myself hurt. It is not somewhere I want to go again. But it is tempting. I understand the self destructive behaviours one can get trapped in when thinking of something so powerfully painful.
I miss you. The pain is palpable.
With a fire in my belly that roars and rages. My eyes burn with the pain of tears that do not come, and my body shakes and writhes in agony when they do.
I need to find a place, Avery. A place for you. A place to go and visit, to leave the house and be in the fresh air. Inhaling your energy swirling around the skies, through trees and grass. To lay down and breathe you and be with you. I was near Rookwood Cemetary the other day and I just wanted to go and lay there, stay surrounded by the peace that such a place brings. I don’t want to lay you to rest anywhere… not yet… I don’t think. But perhaps I just need a spot. I know I can go to any place and do that. But I think I need to do more than just go to the local park.
A friend suggested I go visit a special retreat. I think it might be a good idea. I think it is something I could benefit from. Perhaps. I need to think about it more. Confronting demons is not one of my strong points.
Why does time keep moving forward? Why can’t it all just slow down and stop for a while, let us stay here and just BE.
I want to swear and curse and shut the world out. Run down the street, feel the cold icy drops of rain penetrate my skin and scold my bones. I want to cry and scream. Always. Free the screaming from my head.
But I don’t. I can’t. I won’t.
I will never ever have the answers I want. I will never have you in my arms, and I will never ever understand why you are not in my arms, turning 10 months old today.
10 months Avery.
Gone for 10 months.
And as time passes more babies come, more bellies grow, and my arms are still as empty as ever. Heart irreparably damaged.
10 months is too long and too short.
Tomorrow your name will be seen by many people at a fancy ball. I will be dressed up, thinking of you. Wearing my love on my sleeve, and proudly saying your name.
Wishing more than ever, that I never had the reason to know SIDS and Kids at all.