Today has been one of my 'down' days, as I think of them. Missing my daughter, accidentally running across pictures I'm not ready to look at, like those of her in the hospital. Remembering things she used to do, or laugh about, or want. Parties we'd have for her in October or whichever month, not because anything was happening but because she wanted a party. Balloons, wrapped presents, cakes, pizza, the whole thing. I like to think I did good, but part of me keeps whispering that I could have done better. And I just miss her. I still can't quite figure out what it is I'm supposed to be doing now, or who it is I'm supposed to be.

And I still can't wrap my head around the fact that this thing called life is supposed to be a gift, and that I'm throwing it away with my misery. I can't figure out how this is a gift when all I want is the gift that comes after. I want to be with them, the ones I loved and lost. I want my baby girl.
No one wants to hear it. They want to think it's okay, that I'm okay. But I'm not. Why is it hurting more instead of less? Why does it tear me apart to think of her? Why do I miss her so very much, and why, no matter how much I try to think of her in heaven, pain-free, happy, and waiting for me, does it still make me want to die because of the pain? When, when is it going to be better? When?
Today was pretty busy. it was cold and rainy, so I didn't get to sit out on the deck and enjoy the sunshine, but at least it wasn't raining like it did yesterday.

I went to the vet and picked up a syringe of meds for my dog, as well as her heart worm preventative pills. It was first attempt at giving her a shot, but I managed. It was a bit stressful, but once I did it, it was fine. Way better than taking her all the way to the vet to have it done. She hates riding in cars and gets car sick. So, this was the best way.

Today was the day I picked out my daughter's headstone. It was difficult to maintain stoicism at times, but I made it through without breaking down. I chose a heart-shaped stone. I got an engraving of baby angel with her arm around a lamb, a dove at the top, and a rose, and the words 'our little angel' under her name and dates.

My niece brought over her newborn today. I wasn't sure how I was going to feel about holding a baby in my arms, but it was fine. The baby did remind me of my own, but it was fine. Such a beautiful, tiny little infant.

My sister-in-law died a couple of days ago, of a drug overdose. One of my brothers-her husband-died nine years ago of an extended illness, and when he died, she turned to drugs to cope, I think.
Tomorrow I'll be at court before nine, and I'm sure I'll spend all day there. Tomorrow the jury will recommend life or death for the murderer. Then, for us, it will be over. At least the legal part. Missing my family, thinking of them, realizing all of a sudden they're just not here anymore, that will never be over, will it?

I put on some sturdy shoes and went out to walk around the yard, but it was just too cold. I came back in after the wind tried to knock me over. What a difference from yesterday!

My niece is in the hospital tonight. Tomorrow morning, her doctor is going to induce her labor. I miss babies. I miss my baby.

My baby was the love of my life. She was a perfect baby. I can't wait to see her again.
My family and I have to go to a meeting with the prosecutor on Thursday. A few days after that, the penalty phase of the trial begins. Life or death. We'll know soon, and can put this thing behind us.

I spent today finishing up those pesky line edits, and sent the ms back to my editor tonight.

Tomorrow is going to be a warm, sunny day. I'll spend as much of it as possible in my backyard, wearing myself out so I won't think so much. Tomorrow would have been my baby's birthday, and she did so love her parties. The day after tomorrow will make it three months since she died.

Last night I had a dream, and it was so real I cry every time I think about it. It didn't fade away, like most of my dreams.

In the dream, my ex-husband and his wife were taking my baby on a plane, taking her away somewhere. I was worried because they forgot to take diapers, and all the things she'd need to take a trip. And I was afraid she wouldn't be comfortable. She couldn't sit for long periods, it hurt her little body.

In the dream, they couldn't recline her seat because there wasn't enough room. I don't know how I knew that since I wasn't on the plane, but I knew. And she was sitting there like a little princess, waving to whoever happened to be looking her way. She was going away, without me, on that plane.

What is she going to do without me? What am I going to do without her?
Oh my God what a bad couple of days. I'm depressed, plain and not so simple. It's hard to get out of this quicksand. Thoughts are sluggish, and they actually hurt my head.

I think of dying. I don't make plans, so don't worry. I just think about it. I think about how I want to be there, and not here. I think about how there has to be heaven, and here might be hell. It feels like it, anyway.

But we're supposed to enjoy life, right? So this can't be hell. Life is a gift, isn't it?

I'm SO not afraid to die anymore. I think I might have been, once upon a time. Or I dreaded it, because of life. I enjoyed life then. Maybe I will again, but I'll never be afraid to die.

In a few weeks, if the jury brings back a guilty verdict on my brother's killer, at least that will be a relief, a lessening of the load. It's always scary to think about such a serious thing in the hands of 12 complete strangers.

Life is hard.
Lately I've been really angry. Furious, really, and at the drop of a hat.

Like when someone who knows me asks, what's wrong? Is something wrong?

I want to scream at them, yes, of course something's wrong! My daughter died! My heart was ripped out and stomped on and every single breath I take hurts. Every single thought I have is of her. Every single moment I live is filled with despair. I want my baby. I want my baby! And I am so mad.

But that was over two months ago. Some people think I should be moving on with my life, and what, faking happiness? I understand, I do. I know people just don't want to see another person hurting. They don't want to have to think that I'm in such pain. But I am.

It's only been two months. Two months, which seems unbelievable to me. Have I only been feeling this way for two months? Hasn't this pain been going on for years?? Two months, really?

2 AM



Sometimes when I start to write in this blog I'll think to myself, keep it easy today. No one likes to read about constant pain. But...if anyone starts reading this blog it'll probably be because they are also grieving. And if they are, they're going to completely understand. And if writing about my pain helps me out a little, why do I care that someone gets upset that I'm talking about heavy stuff? I guess I'm just weird that way.

My heart is broken. Mostly it feels like it'll never be patched back together. So yes, I'm going to write about pain. I'll write about pain and some days I'll write about what an okay day I've had or what I've been doing to try to forget the pain for a little while.

But she was such a special little thing. Missing her, needing her, that's not ever going to go away, is it? Not until I die and am once again with her. I need to focus on that. She's waiting for me. She's happier than she's ever been.
I'm sitting here with Word open, thinking about writing. I have a bag of Chick-O-Sticks and a bag of Bit-O-Honey candy, and I'm working my way through the bags. It's a hard day, and on these days I seek the relatively small comfort of food. Sweet foods, because that's my comfort. Better than a big old plate of meatloaf or a pizza. I need my sweets.

The Bit-O-Honey's are making my jaw crack with the effort of chewing them. My desk is littered with candy wrappers, and Saving Grace is in the DVD player. Earlier I looked at pictures of my little angel and then read for hours over the news items about the murders of my family members.

It came down to pneumonia, for my daughter. Have I told you that? She had pneumonia, an infection that she could not fight, and blood clots on her brain. Her little body couldn't fight.

God, how I miss that girl.

This is good, to write about it, because I don't want to talk about it to people, not anymore. I feel like they're wanting me to get on with life, to just get better. And I can't. I pretend to, though, for most of them. It's better that way.

Sometimes I just get so tired, so exhausted. I'm eager to go be with her, to be out of this hard, hard life. The couple of people I've mentioned that to look at me funny, like I'm going to go jump off a building or something. I'm not. I'd be too afraid that suicides might have to learn more life lessons, might not be able to go where we go when we leave this world. And I have to go be with her when it's my time to go. She needs me. I need her.

Besides, there are other people here to think about. Most importantly, my son. But that doesn't keep me from longing, or thinking that from now to then will probably be a long, long time.

For his sake, I hope so. For mine, not so much.
Why is it that some days I'm feeling okay, and then the next I'm missing my little girl so much that I can barely function? This is one of those days. It all happened so fast and she's no longer here. That kills me. I miss her so much. I want to be with her.