The good comes with the bad....

So, I have had a fantastic few weeks. I was able to look up for a change and live life with a big smile on my face...which, considering everything we have been through in the last month...ten months...was such a relief.

However, grief does funny, funny things. I went to a M.I.S.S. meeting last night ( a support group for bereaved parents) and loved it, like I always do. I never realize how big of a lunatic I really am until I let my guard down and really share what my thoughts are. Like how event though I still can't go into the baby section, or look at cutsie baby things, I am so excited for my best friends' baby boy to be born-this week hopefully! I just want to hold that baby boy, and cuddle him and no that he is healthy...looking for a way to feel that love again. To feel that 8 pounds. I think I'm feeling a loss of control... I've lost so much that I've been trying to control everything and I am afraid to let go.

So afraid, that I haven't given myself enough time to grieve Debs...or even by boys. I've been so busy trying to fix it...fix my life and find replacements... that today, it's hitting me really, really hard.

A very nice lady from Pennsylvania contacted me via facebook after googling fetal demise and reading this blog. She just lost her baby at 19 weeks and was looking for was to heal and grieve...I was ecstatic to know that I truly am reaching out. However, it sent me on this fetal demise frenzy on google this morning, and then I found Sarah Bains blog (a M.I.S.S. facilitator) and read it and my emotions just welled up. I miss my boys so much. They should be trying to walk right now...scootin' around in their diapers. I should have that Sequoia full of car seats and toys. I feel like I have somehow lost a year + of time. I keep trying to forget my pain and make it be ok. But days like today, its not okay damn it.

I think of my boys, our boys, every day...if not every hour. How could this have happened? I still don't understand, and I am still looking for answers. I want to have children, and to be pregnant again, but I am terrified. I am mad at my body. I am angry with God for taking them, even though I know there is a reason for it, I have hit my anger stage. I'm pissed.

Alright. That's enough. I have to get some work done, and wipe my face off before someone asks me for their paycheck.