Damn boondocks internet.

My absence hasn’t been planned; my internet fucking hates me or something and refuses to work. I can’t believe it’s been a week already. It feels like yesterday I was still feeling him move in me. I just keep thinking of how soft his skin was. I miss him so much. I’m really struggling with the “Should Be’s”. I know they serve no purpose but to torture me, but I can’t seem to help it. There’s another couple who was married a few months before us, had their son about 4 months before G, and their daughter about 5 months before Little T was due. Their daughter’s first birthday is at the end of this month, and the thought of going makes me want to hide under the covers. I’m not sure if they know I was pregnant, and that we lost him, but I assume they do and all I can picture is people whispering behind their hands; “ohh, the girl whose babies die.” Not to mention the comparisons; they were just a few months behind us…. I KNOW. I know I’m being crazy. I’m projecting my feelings of inadequacy as what others think about me. They don’t. I would never be friends with assholes. I have never thought that about someone else, just myself. I’m the only one who looks at them and thinks of the road I was supposed to travel, but instead I’m on this one. I try to remind myself we all have our struggles, mine are no greater or smaller than anyone else’s. I don’t know what they have gone through in their lives. They are no more or less worthy then me. But I am jealous none the less. That they get to bring their babies home and raise them. Of course we’re going. If we don’t go IT will win. I’m not sure what IT is. Grief? Depression? Paranoid social anxiety? The asshole universe that won’t let me bring home living sons? My failed plans of how my life is supposed to be? IT has not made itself known to me yet, but I am very aware there is a battle going on. What I don’t know is if I’m supposed to be fighting, maybe if it’s grief I’m supposed to let it…be? I don’t know. What I do know is that the worst that can happen is I start crying at the party, which is what I do every day, and at least it’s not the cream cheese section of the grocery store. We can leave early if needed. I will make sure I don’t ruin the party of course. My heart continues to break with everything I realize we will not do with our sons. It’s like it washes over me fresh and new. Thank you for all the thoughts emails and prayers, I very much appreciate them.