Anyway, what I'm getting at here with my rambling is that I came to one conclusion yesterday, and being the visual nerd that I am, I illustrated it for you in mathematical terms.
|Note - this is not actual science, people, but you get what I mean.|
I would like to argue that it gets easier over time, though this is not yet my experience. In a year, we've had three miscarriages, so there are all these dates that I still remember and all these terrible anniversaries that tie my stomach into knots. Like today. One year ago today, Micah died. We found out about it a year ago tomorrow. I had my D&E a year ago June 8th. You see what I mean? It's a whole year of dates that I have yet to forget.
I'll be honest. Part of me wants to forget. I have it all written down, and now I want to forget. I want to be able to make new memories on those days.
Then there are the faces of my friends' children who were born around the time my babies should have been born. I watch them grow, and I love them so much, but I ache for me, for my quiet house, for my husband and his broken heart.
I don't have any sage advice to give, but to continue giving yourself the opportunity to grieve-- I've been bottling it up lately, and it's only made it worse. As I've said before, grief doesn't operate on a timeline, and if you (we) never "get over it," that's okay.
Also, thanks for all your additions to my loss and infertility playlist. Here is the list as of now, but feel free to keep adding to it!!
Steven Curtis Chapman - Dive
Florence + The Machine - Shake It Out
Katy Perry - Firework
Considering Lily - The Pieces Fit
Lykke Li - Possibility
Cave In - Inspire
Relient K - High of 75