The loss of Noah is just something I will live with.
Talking to Katie today, I told her I just want "to go back to being functional," to which she replied, "well what does that mean?" Well, it means that basically I want to go back to feeling how I felt before April 5, 2010, before my life became burdened with loss.
Well, that obviously can't happen. There will never be a day that goes by that I don't think about and love Noah; there will always be that hole in my heart where he is. My hope is that one day the hole won't hurt so badly. And maybe one day I won't be measuring time around December 24, April 5, July 16 and September 8.
I haven't used my blog as an outlet recently, I'm not sure why. Probably because I'm stupid and am trying to be strong. But, again, reality is that I cannot be strong all the time. And that being strong doesn't mean not crying and not hurting, which is what I want it to mean. As we quietly passed over Noah's due date and the two month anniversary of his birth and loss, I guess I thought not thinking and talking about it would make it less painful. But that's not true either - the pain just gets damed up and delayed. Reality is that walking through any children's section will never be easy for me any more; seeing pregnant women will hurt; babies hurt; I'll never see handicapped, mentally delayed, or disabled persons again the same - because if he had lived, that would have been Noah. "Retarded" is not a funny or acceptable word - not when you've heard it used in the medical aspect do describe your baby. Flippant remarks about death, or killing someone, aren't so flippant, not when they have truth behind it.
Just to be clear- I'm not depressed. I'm just experiencing loss as anyone else would - which is comforting to me - that if you'd lost a husband, mother, or sibling, you'd be feeling this way too: small things trigger memories and become reminders. And remembering just hurts. Hurt doesn't mean we don't love; I think it means we do love: it hurts that we have lost someone we love no matter who that someone is. Even in high school, breaking up with a boyfriend meant tears, because it hurt to let go of that part of you. Losing Grandma hurt and I cried because her death meant I wouldn't get to see her at my high school or college graduation.
Hurting is just a normal part of life and a highly normal part of grief.
But it doesn't make the hurt any easier to bare.