Bride To Be

I can't quite process that the wedding is on Saturday (and everything needs to be done and ready by friday). Finding joy in being a bride to be is a challenge when I'm no longer a mother to be as well. Stranger in a strange land. Wound up talking to some woman in the wedding aisle at Michael's. She was shopping for last minute wedding things too. I managed not to blurt out anything about the baby to anyone today (though when I ran into a coworker he had heard and offered sympathies, which was sweet but I still wound up feeling like there's no where I can escape the pain).

I'm hoping I can put down the pain again and just celebrate this marriage. It doesn't mean any less to me because Isaac is gone; in fact, it means all the more. We've drawn so tightly together to survive this that we're all the stronger for it. But still...buying a "slimming" body shaper, when i thought this week i'd be buying something to enhance the belly...

The Mirror

I keep finding myself standing in front of the mirror--in front of anything that holds a reflection--staring into my own eyes, trying to find myself again. I don't know who I am now; I'm a mother but there's no baby. I'm still a little bit pregnant, but there's no baby. I'm still alive, but there's no baby. I can't process it. I can't make it make sense. When you came into my life you started making me into someone else. Now that you're gone, I can't be who I was, and I don't want to be who I am. I don't want to be a grieving mother. I don't want to be this new person with sad eyes, the breasts full of milk that won't nourish you, the empty arms clutching the blanket that still holds the faintest echo of how you smelled, the deflated belly. I don't want this in-between body; I don't want this in-between life. I just want my son.

Aching to Write

There aren't any words. Where would I even start? I feel so empty without my son inside me. I miss feeling his kicks. He was so active all the time, and now there's nothing. I hurt to hold him, but my arms are empty. All that's left are pictures and memories and tears. I want my life back--but the life I want back stopped existing the moment we found out he wasn't staying. I feel like the world itself stopped existing--but I look out the window and the sun is still shining. I turn on the television and see life going on. It is maddening and it is comforting. People walk by our house and smile and wave, and I smile and wave back. But I want to scream at them that our son is gone. I want to talk to people but I don't want to say any of the words it would take. Who am I now, if I'm not a glowing mother to be? What is my life for, if I'm not living for him?