It's interesting that by all outside indicators I am a perfectly well adjusted mom of alot of boys. We go to sports (lots of them). I am very active in school district activities. I volunteer within my community and even teach Sunday School. I have a job that is very visible in our small community. I have lived in this same community since I was in high school, so I know lots and lots of people. As you might guess, trips to the grocery store always take me hours because I stop and talk to all of my 'friends' who are also there. Have I mentioned that I am also very social. :)
But then there is this side of me. The side that you all see. The deep grief, regret and longing for something different, something more.
This morning I could hardly get out of bed. I felt paralyzed by grief. I had that oppressive feeling of not being able to change one single thing to make it better.
All night I dreamed that I was having a baby. Literally having the baby. But I was NOT going to let this child go home with another family. I knew better. This child was staying with me. I was its mother.
Then I woke up and the reality hit like a brick wall. No matter what I had just dreamed, there is no going back. I cannot change what has happened. And nothing is any better than when I went to bed.
I still have no interaction with my daughter's family (aside from the emails generated by them once a month). I have no visits to look forward to.
All I have is hope that things will change in the future. Possibly as far away as when our daughter requests to know us.
The idea that I have to live with that every day kills me. A slow painful death. And even on my very best day, things are just never quite right. We have a child missing. And the tragedy is we chose it.
How could we have ever thought this would be a good idea? I will never be the same. And never quite right.