Where I am 2012: 1 year 5 months from my 1st loss.

Where I am now; 1 year and 5 months from my 1st loss, almost 1 year from my 2nd loss, and almost 6 months from my 3rd.

Still Life With Circles has a project called Right Where I Am. I can't link so I'm copying and pasting, you should go have a look.

http://stilllifewithcircles.blogspot.com/

I didn’t participate in this last year, although I did read a lot of other contributions. I wish I had because it’s so hard for me to differentiate how I was then from now. It’s been 18 months of losses one right after another.

Right now, I’m sad, very often. I’m in the beginning stages of it lifting, something for which I’m very grateful, but my babies not being here is still very much felt by me, at all times. The words “I miss my babies.” float through my brain more times a day then I can count, as if from a foreign source. It doesn’t matter what I’m doing or thinking about, they just drift on through, always taking center stage. I see their ghosts in the toys G is too old to play with, but are still out, the changing table I’m going to have to put away.

I’m beginning to lose hope. I’ve always had it, a frantic, refusal to imagine my world any way other then how I thought it would be kind of hope, but it’s been there none the less. The idea that I may have to accept my life as it is instead of how I pictured it has been resolutely ignored in an attempt to stop the debilitating panic that immediately blooms in my chest whenever it is brought up. But it’s been sneaking in, chipping away at my defenses.

I am thankful for the life I have. I never take it, and those that are with me for granted. For that I give a nod of thanks to the babies I’ve lost. I consciously appreciate much more than I did before. I notice every change I see daily, acknowledge the beauty that is my daughter and husband. I revel in each minute spent with them. But I also mourn the fact that this version of me is the one that does that. I am broken, anxious, over sensitive and stressed out. I feel like a wound not yet scabbed over, flinching when something comes close to brushing me. I long for this period of my life to be over, this in between time that seems to be stuck on repeat; try to get pregnant, get pregnant, lose another piece of my soul, begin again. I feel like I’m perpetually waiting for my “real” life to begin, it can’t possibly be this version. At some point I will either have a live baby to bring home, or I will make the effort to never be pregnant again.

Today the sun is out, and we have a birthday party to attend. Right now, my smile slower to come than it once was, but it’s there. That’s all I can ask.