i remember for a few weeks after she died, every time the phone rang, i seriously thought it was our midwife calling to tell us this was all a mistake. that's how much my mind was unable to really accept that she was gone. really gone. my midwife never called.
i was also tortured in those first weeks with the thoughts that god was punishing me for the bad things i had done in my past. thanks, residual catholic upbringing. there was no answer to the how or the why, so i just had to assume it was something i did that was causing this retribution. but i didn't believe in god, so there was no comfort to be had in that whole system. i envied people who had that. that was something that was missing, a faith, a belief, a spiritual safety net. but i couldn't just make myself believe to get the benefits i needed right then, and anyway, i probably believed in god but hated him for allowing my baby to die, so i was screwed regardless.
in those first weeks, we hid from the world. hid in our house, and when we did venture out, it felt like we weren't really a part of the world anymore. we were stuck on march 21 2005, and the calender was turning without us. i didn't know how i was supposed to continue living, and i had no one to ask. luckily we found a grief counselor, and she held the thread that we hung on from.
and i don't remember when i laughed for the first time either. i know it felt bad to do it. and eating too. i ate a lot of apples. or half-ate, because it felt so bad to be able to taste, to chew, to live. every thing about living, the first time you have to do it again, it feels wrong and weird. but you have to do it all, and the more you do it, the less odd it feels, but, there is no easy way to do it, it just has to happen, and it really helps to hear from other women that you will get thru. you will laugh again, and it won't mean that you don't love your child any less. that whole first year was so hard. you just have to get thru it, one day at a time.