Christmas

It's difficult not to be sucked in by the Christmas propaganda. Really it's everywhere. I'm not normally one to "deck the halls" and be "merry" or become overly nostalgic about the year and family I never see or hear from. But it seems that these times make you feel a little worse for wear. Is it the idea that everyone should be joyful and loving and celebrating their lives with one another? Meh. I don't know. What I do know is, I'm sad. Yep just a general sad. Sad that Yuna's not here. Sad that she's not alive. Sad that I can't make her a dress to wear, make her all the beautiful toys I know she'd love to play with. In reality I do know that my attitude toward Christmas or Giftmas wouldn't have really changed all that much if she were here but it still feels empty. Something missing.

I think it's the fake joy. I don't want to pretend just for the sake of a day that means nothing to me anyway.
Santa sucks.
We do giftmas for the boys. It's about them too. They deserve joy and love but I also feel that the sadness around their sister should be just as acknowledged as the rest of it.
The gifts, the food, the fake joy.
But what to acknowledge? How? When? I always struggle with what's appropriate. I guess it shouldn't matter. But I'm kind of in-between with how I'm feeling right now, so that makes how I'm feeling more confusing. I'm angry at the whole situation. I know it will pass but for now I'm just going with it. Letting it settle and then I'll work with it.

Last giftmas I had only been out of hospital a few weeks, Yuna had only been dead two months. So it was all a bit of a whirlwind. We spent too much on the kids, trying to compensate for such a shitty few months. Shitty doesn't even cover it but you know what I mean. I was still in a state of shock so nothing really went beyond the surface. We just went with the tide. Trying not to drown in it.
Then this year it's been long enough to have felt real emotions. To know what's missing. Long enough for the family to have distanced themselves. It's been long enough to realise that I'm going to have a life full of occasions, events, celebrations, birthdays that she wont be here for. I'll always feel like something is missing. I'll always miss her and be sad that I can't be her mama but how to put it into perspective? How to not drown in the overwhelming sadness? How to not be sucked in by all the crap?

Still here

I find that no matter how much time passes I'm still in a relative state of shock.

The shock, the raw feelings that surface when I look back on what I've endured, enduring...

The shock, the trauma. The reality that I carried my baby for nearly 10 months and gave birth. A very significant event in any woman's life. I had a daughter, a baby. Then like a dream it was gone again. It didn't feel real. It's all still so unreal. Like a hazy dream. Or nightmare?

A painful raw open wound that just wont heal. It stings every time you touch it. The raw edges like fire, burning further and further into my soul. Nothing heals that kind of hurt.

There seems to be a whole lot of anger. Anger going nowhere, aimed at no-one. Just being carried upon my shoulders, along with everything else.

The sting of hurt every time I remember the two contrasts of my life then and my life now. It's hard to swallow. Like two completely different worlds, one full of colours and the other a dreary grey. I'm two different people. The woman, goddess, mother before Yuna and just me now. I don't know where I'm going if anywhere at all.

The sting of the happy homebirth planning, the dreams of toast and celebration after the arrival of our new baby. How did it disappear so fast?

I'll question and guilt myself over every decision, every tiny detail, every minute but I know it still doesn't change anything. I'm just lost in a web of empty answers. Dead ends. Confusion.

The cycle of grief is never ending. It just jumps from one pain to another. People just occupy themselves with life but never really heal. It doesn't get better with time. Life just creeps back in around you and you have no choice but to pick up the pieces.

Sink or swim?

It angers those around me when I express how much I'd wished I hadn't survived. I desperately didn't want to wake up after Yuna was born. I knew that then and I know that now.

Isn't it selfish for them to want me? Selfish for them to need me?

If they'd felt what I felt, heard what I'd heard and seen it through my eyes, they too would have begged like I did, to not recover from this. But here I am. Alone in my thoughts, in my head. Wondering what happened. Wondering how it could have been different. Wondering...

Questioning life itself.