Back to work

This week has been a busy one. I started back to work part time. Its nice to get out of the house a bit, but its tough getting on a new schedule. I will be working early mornings so that I can be back in time for Nate to go in to work. Not happy about having to get up at 3 am, but at least I am out before the day even begins.

We went to see some family this week which was nice. Makayla got to meet more of her relatives and luckily it was a warm beautiful day so we were able to enjoy the time outdoors! I can't wait to be able to do that more often!

55 Days-Grief lasts a lifetime

Most of the time I feel like I am dealing with everything so well. And then every once in a while it all comes flooding back and I feel like I am right there on the brink of that dark void again. I guess sometimes I forget that I am still grieving, and I need to let myself do it before it feels like this. Those stages of grief I read about-I figured once they were over they would be over, but its so not true. They just seem revolving-in no specific pattern or order-just this time around they are a little less intense.

What am I babbling about? Well, right now I just feel like I am getting sucked down a bit and I need to vent to let some of it out. These last few days I have started feeling everything again with some intensity. The nightmares have returned, I wake up crying. I have been crying at the most random times during the day, and there is nothing I can do about it. I am angry and hurt and lost and I feel such guilt all over again. I finally think I figured out where it is all coming from:

55 days... thats how long I got to spend with my beautiful, perfect, little boy. 55 days-thats it. I know its more than a lot of people, but I feel ripped off. I should have spent the rest of my life with him. 55 days and the whole time I was wishing it to go by faster b/c I truly thought I would bring him home, so instead of treasuring every little moment I prayed for it to be over. Now I have this beautiful baby girl-who is my world- and who is already hitting those little milestones that Gabe never really reached, and on April 10th she will be 55 days old. It just reminds me how little time I really spent with my boy. I sit and I hold her and I cry...I cry for my son who never really got to live, I cry for my husband who was never able to watch that Patriots game with his boy the way he wanted to, I cry for my daughter who will never meet her brother, and I cry for myself b/c I want him back sooo bad.

Than there is the anger. I am so angry at everything again. I don't understand why he couldn't be a survivor. I try to tell myself its so I could help others, but I could have helped others with him here to. He was supposed to be my miracle baby, I was ready to devote my life to him. There is so many of the what ifs left in my head. And with those what ifs comes the guilt. What if I hadn't worked as hard in the beginning of the pregnancy, what if I didn't have that drink, what if those selfish a******* hadn't robbed me and put the gun to my head-I still have nightmares about that and then I dealt with all that post-stress and anxiety during the pregnancy, what if I had miscarried instead of praying for him to hold on. I lied-I told him that if he just held on inside of me that everything would be ok, and I would take care of him. What if I had insisted on another ultrasound when I felt that things weren't right... what if I had done more research and had asked to be transfered to Childrens Boston-would he have received better treatments? What if I hadn't decided to let him go...would there have been a miracle? Was it the right thing to do? I feel like I was so niave to everything, I don't know if it was the right thing or if it was what I felt the nurses felt I should do. I feel like I didn't give him a chance to even fight it b/c he was on a paralytic at the time. Maybe he could have rebounded... maybe. I try and remind myself that it was a decision I KNEW was right at the time. I felt it as soon as I walked in his room that night. I KNEW we had tried everything we could and he was telling me he couldn't fight any longer. I know all that-but I still feel guilt. I wish I would have waited until morning and then asked his surgeon-the one I trusted-the one who was willing to fight for Gabe and try everything in his power. He told me that I had made the right decision the next morning...but I just don't know. Why should a mother ever be forced to make that decision. 55 days was not long enough! I think one of the worst parts of all this is that I had a shaky faith going into this pregnancy, and now its even worse. I feel like god may have been punishing me for not fully believing, and sometime I feel like there is no god at all. I have prayed and prayed for something to restore my faith, for a sign that there is a heaven and my boy is in it. To know, really know and not just say b/c it will make me feel better, that I will one day see my son again would make all the difference in the world-and yet I can't seem to get to that point. I am begging and pleading with God to help me know that.

So there it is-all of it. All of my weaknesses, fears, and guilt... for anyone to see. I don't know if this makes me weak...I feel kind of naked laying it all out there. I wish it would all go away.