Wednesday, January 2, 2013

Where's the remote control?

Am I alone in wishing for a mute button? Or maybe a rewind/fast forward option to life? How about pause?

Last night I COULD NOT turn my brain off, no matter how many cognitive therapy exercises I tried. Those last few hours haunt me and the two weeks proceeding Ellie's death have traumatized and damaged me. Every moment of January 14, 2010, is burned into my brain. I live in constant fear that something will happen to my surviving children. Every time my husband drives off with them safely latched in their car seats, I panic. I hate that my first thought when I see their daycare's number pop up on my phone is that one of them has been badly hurt. I think about what we would do in a fire or home invasion. What if the car went into a lake? It's awful, irrational...and I don't know how to make it stop.

Her birthday is approaching. Three years. What would she look like? What adorable personality would she have? I cannot believe it has been three years. Today marks the day we went in for my 30 week check-up. I couldn't believe I had gained 12lbs in two weeks. We tried to get another face shot with the ultrasound tech to no avail. I felt off all day and was worried something was wrong. And it was. It wasn't a nightmare although I desperately tried to will it. Couldn't I just rewind? I'd do something different...anything, if it would save her. But it happened. Six days after she was born on January 8, I held her for the first time while she died listening to me singing a lullaby and her daddy holding her hand. Now all I have are these loud, repetitive thoughts and fears.

What will happen when three years turns into 30 years? Sometimes I think about how much more peaceful I will be then. I will, right?

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