I often have emotional mornings. I'll never let anyone know at work, but you see I drive to work. 55 minutes one way. That is a lot of time to think... unless I focus in on the Kid Kraddick morning radio show. But mornings like this morning my mind escapes to my child. A relationship I am struggling to establish how to work out in my mind. I knew her less than 2 hours in person, but I mourn her like someone I had known my whole life. But I reason with that in this manner: She was created 1/2 of me, she was formed and grew in me, so she was and is very much a part of me my whole life. She is indeed a piece of me. So I tell myself as a mother I am allowed to still feel her absence, because when she died I lost a huge part of me... of who I always dreamed of being. My mind on my drive often drifts to my daughter. The sweet tiny baby with my cheeks and a replica of her father's face. I go back to my darkest days. The days I couldn't look at myself in the mirror after she was born because she had my cheeks and I couldn't bear to look at myself anymore because it made me long for the child I held so temporarily. My mind also slips to the night I came home from the hospital when the strong drugs began to wear off and I finally felt the deep gravity of the child I loved so dearly for 26 weeks passing on my chest. Make it no mistake, I am thankful I brought sweet girl into the world and I am thankful if she had to pass on I was holding her. But no body in the world (even those who have been through similar situations) knows what it was like for me to look into our precious God given creation's eyes and then have to face a nurse nodding her head yes that she had passed. All the while trying to remain as strong as possible because I refused for few moments I had with us to be turmoil. I took in her life and the beauty that it was. I prayed for her, sang to her, I loved her with everything in me, and I tried my hardest for her to see my smile despite the tears that ceased flowing. I held my deepest sorrow for when I sat in the recliner days later. I never want to feel that pain again. It's the type of pain the cripples you, that makes you wish you could close your eyes, and just temporarily disappear. Make it clear I never wanted to die and I don't wish to die now, but at that moment I needed an escape from reality. I wished so bad that Neverland was a place. I wished for a magical place that I didn't feel the pain I felt. Then the next day getting texts from my husband of her casket--our kid's casket. Would this be ok he so nervously texted. I was supposed to pick out her outfits every day, not her casket. I am still thankful he picked it out. I am thankful he planned it. I couldn't have. But I am thankful I did write her obituary, my gift of words to her. It's all I had to give her.
The days following the funeral all feel like such an emotional blur of both physical and mental anguish and pain. A blur of healing from a surgery and trying to figure out how to function. I cried. A lot. I beat myself up for not kissing her lips, my greatest regret. But she was so very fragile and seemed comfortable in my arms on my chest. I am thankful I kissed her sweet cheeks, but fresh out of surgery I couldn't bend much and didn't want to harm her. So I just held her and kissed her cheeks. I never once thought "Kiss Ryleigh on the lips while she is here". I just stared into her eyes and kissed her cheeks, sang to her, prayed for her, did the best job I could. But days after she was buried, I mourned not kissing her lips. And I am sure if I would have, I would have another "I wish I would have" done thing. But I have learned to mentally cope because I will kiss those sweet lips one day in heaven. (Please don't judge me, I am so scared someone would think, "Who wouldn't think to kiss her child? I promise I showered her with kisses on her cheeks, but mentally I wasn't stable at the time). Another fear days after the funeral I had was panic attacks over ants getting her. Morbid, I know, but it caused me to have a major meltdown before being explained that the type of casing she was in prevented such. I hated those days. I still hate the memory of those days, but here I am writing them. But I hope writing them will help me heal from my dark days. I never want to lose the memory of her, but I desperately want to be in a place where only the good and happy memories surface.
I want to state I really am doing better, sometimes I think I am having a really bad day, but then I recall I had a lot of worse days.
And I want you to know that when you ask me how I really am doing I'll always say "I'm ok" because I can't talk to people publicly about it. At least not out loud. I can't. It's too much for me to share the deep emotions I still feel. Actually I have learned I like for people to just treat me like Christina, the old version of me. But I do like to hear her name so please don't ever be nervous about speaking of her to me.
I am a new version of me. There is an underlying missing piece of me and I miss the old me, which sound very selfish. But when I say I used to be genuinely happy I was. Now I have moments of genuine happiness tainted with moments of sadness. It's confusing to go from being the 100% happy person to the girl who fights daily to have an emotionally stable happy day. But my goodness I do love my happy moments now. I cherish the times I am laughing with a co-worker, a student, a friend, or a family member. And y'all, my class, my Lord knows my love for them. They keep me busy and I prayed for the perfect class for me this year. God gave me a busy one with a lot of energy this year. And I love it. I don't stop and when I don't stop, I don't have time to wallow in self pity. I am just me again, a teacher who loves her class.
And I am making so many close friends here lately. My friendships that existed have grown stronger, like the bond that we now hold is deeper. Because I saw which friends were really there for us. And I am making so many new friendships... lol and the majority of them are all pregnant. I won't lie I was once nervous about how I would function mentally around pregnant women in the future. I didn't want to become some jealous ole hag... and I am not! That's one thing I can honestly say. If anything, I am thrilled for them because I know the feeling of excitement knowing that there is another precious miracle to love. I think God made a lot of my new friends pregnant for a reason, I think he wants me to still praise Him for life. So I do, and I pray for my pregnant friends all of the time. I can't wait until I am the pregnant one again. (We get to start praying for one in two months, and you best believe the count down is on. And I will be a mom of two before you know it. (One always above).
I can not help but tell you guys I am made to be a mother. I know in my deepest heart that I will be a great one. I consider myself a good one even now. I bear the scar to show that I am a good mom. I will make mistakes just as all parents do, but I will have patience and a love for our children. I will take them on grand adventures, I will read to them, I will bathe them every night in their pajamas, and I promise you they'll be tucked in knowing they are loved. I will rock the raising a kid thing one day and I can't wait to watch our baby or babies grow.
If you read this long, Thank you. I pray you treat me just like you would every day tomorrow or whenever I go public with my post, please act like you didn't read it at all lol. Just so I can feel normal. I hate being pitied (and I know you think I just shouldn't talk about it to avoid being pitied, but I can't stay quiet.) I just want someone to understand me because holding everything in and always pretending to be strong is hard and I need an outlet.. and I swear I don't want your pity. I just want someone to understand how I am ok and I am not ok all at the same time. That sometimes I never know when an emotion will hit. And I want someone to know that somehow I survived the best and worst day of my life and the days that followed.