I feel sad. A dark haze envelops me. It’s constantly there although it’s easier to ignore when the sun shines through. Sunny days are rare but I embrace the sun when it chooses to show itself. Dark clouds build but the sun refuses to let it take over. It has become more challenging to look for the sunny moments so these days I wait patiently for the bright moments to make their appearance. Those who surround me hold these beams of light.
I feel exhausted. I stay focused on what needs to be done. I set small goals and then feel defeated every time I fail to accomplish the things I plan to. All of my energy is going to my rainbow baby. It’s about taking care of baby first and getting things accomplished when I can.
I am quiet but calm. I have settled in to this uncomfortable place. I shed my skin and try to blend in but the scars of child loss are much too dark to camouflage, even in this dark haze. I accept that. My scars are now a part of who I am and I chose to live without a mask.
Scars can make others feel uncomfortable, especially when you show them off to the world. The people who care enough to look past the scars and into the pain are the ones who will get see the rainbows!
Dark days. We all have them. It’s how we get through them that matters. These are things we aren’t taught growing up. We do the best we can with what we have, with what we know. The last few weeks have been about survival.
The pain is constant. I feel it cut through my chest like a knife. There are moments where the pain is so intense that I can’t breathe. I welcome the pain even though I fear it because I need to feel it. During the moments I succumb to the pain, I allow it to take me over. I cry, but then I feel like I can’t catch my breath and search for the light. I fear the moment that the screams start. Once I start, I don’t think I’ll be able to stop.
My dark days are spent at home. I’ve been isolating myself and only go out when I have to. I’m sitting on the couch a lot. I read and I started playing a few games on my iPad regularly as an escape. I look forward to night time. That’s when Bella comes to me. She has been giving me little bits of information every night.
I’m starting to see what really happened to my daughter. She tells me that the cause of death isn’t important, that it was meant to be this way and there was nothing anyone could do to change the result. She’s also telling me that her death happened the way it did to help teach others about certain things. The world is in the process of a significant shift. People are waking up to what’s really going on around them. Her and my purpose are to help with this shift.
It makes me angry is that I’m the one who is getting these messages. I shouldn’t have to wait until night time to hear from my baby girl. I should be seeing her every morning, wrapping my arms around her and kissing her. I should be playing with her, dancing with her, loving her. I should be living in the chaos of being a single mother with 2 kids, working full time and having no time to even think. Now all I have is time, and all I do is think.
The healing hasn’t started yet and I wonder if it ever will. I am fulfilling my destiny by this experience of loss and I choose to make the most of it. I choose to help others in hopes that I can prevent this from happening to another mother, to another innocent child. In the mean time, I will continue to hope for better days. I will continue to fake being happy for the sake of my son. I will continue to survive.
“It’s easy to feel hopeful on a beautiful day, but there will be dark days ahead of us too. There will be days where you feel alone and that’s when hope is needed most. No matter how buried it gets or how lost you feel, you must promise me that you will hold on to hope.” – The Amazing Spider-Man 2
#StayStrong❤️ #DarkDays #Survival