sometimes it feels good to go down the rabbit hole for a while
Jack is at work, the Littles are sleeping, and Kim is at her drama performance; it's the perfect time for me to watch a movie in peace. I've been wanting to see The Rabbit Hole but I know it may upset me so I wanted to watch it in private. After 5 years, I feel like my grief has become even more private, almost as if I shouldn't still feel it as deeply as I do. I know that's not true, but I find myself hiding my pain and tears from everyone, including the people closest to me.
In a weird, twisted way it's comforting to watch this movie, to see, hear and feel another mother's pain. I feel less alone. More normal, in a way that is *my* new normal. Even though Abby's pictures are everywhere and I think of her dozens of times every day, I still sometimes forget the horror of it.
That I had a baby.
And before I had a chance to nurse her, change her diaper, hear her cry, or see her smile, she died.
I held her lifeless body.
I packed up all of the clothes she never wore, the toys she never played with, and gave most of them away.
And I left her in a tiny white casket on a carpet of fake grass, and walked away.
Sometimes it's hard even for me to believe.
In a weird, twisted way it's comforting to watch this movie, to see, hear and feel another mother's pain. I feel less alone. More normal, in a way that is *my* new normal. Even though Abby's pictures are everywhere and I think of her dozens of times every day, I still sometimes forget the horror of it.
That I had a baby.
And before I had a chance to nurse her, change her diaper, hear her cry, or see her smile, she died.
I held her lifeless body.
I packed up all of the clothes she never wore, the toys she never played with, and gave most of them away.
And I left her in a tiny white casket on a carpet of fake grass, and walked away.
Sometimes it's hard even for me to believe.