Sometimes when I am thinking about Addison I wonder if I made it all up. I have dreamed my whole life for a little girl so maybe I just dreamed up this perfect baby and none of this bad stuff ever really happened.
It's hard to fathom that this is my life. Even when going over old blog entries it can feel like I am reading someone else’s story...surely this horrible loss couldn't have happened to me. This is the kind of thing you read about not experience firsthand.
When I was younger I would wish that I could fast forward my life to the day I was married with my first baby. I always knew I wanted to be a wife and especially a mother. I was tired of having to wait for my life to get started. I would spend so much time dreaming of how my life would be. Never in all my dreams was I a mom to a dead baby.
I daydream of her all day, but have only dreamed of her once in my sleep. I had been waiting to dream of her hoping to see her alive, smiling, laughing even crying, but in my dream she was still lifeless. I have read other blogs where moms dream of their babies constantly...why haven't I?!? I want to see her in my sleep. It's the only way I will ever "see" her smile or laugh. I keep waiting for one, but it hasn't happened yet. I guess I have no choice, but to keep waiting.
There are many days when I have accepted that this is my life, but other days where I refuse to wrap my brain around it. My family is big on not having issues. It was always the joke that while other friends were dealing with all sorts of disorders that "we don't have no stinkin' disorders"! I have my own family now, but I still don't want to be "that girl". My heart is broken, but I am not broken...ok maybe a little broken, but I am fighting it every step of the way.
I love that I am Addi's mom, but the thought of being somewhere, someplace at any time and knowing there will be someone saying quietly to a friend "look, there she is, that's the girl whose baby died". I really hate that. I am "that girl". It would be so much better if I knew people would talk about her with me than about her behind my back. I know this is how society works, but it doesn't mean that I have to like it.
This week has been a bit easier and I can attribute it to feeling like this didn’t really happen to me…I made it up and any minute now I might become “me” again. This grief “ride” is so unique. The twists, turns and constant emotional changes are nothing like I have could have imagined. I want off the ride.