Friday, May 11, 2012

markers in time

I should have an 19 year old.
I should have a 7 year old.
I should have a 6 year old.
I should have a 5 year old.
I should have a 1 year old.
I should have a 8 month old.

Guess what.  I don't.  Instead I know children around me who serve as living, breathing markers in time of how old my children should be.  Instead I have a uterus that is still weeping for the babies it couldn't hold.  Weeping?  Maybe more like sobbing.  Like every hour I'm running to the bathroom.  This isn't lining anymore.  This is blood.  Blood blood bloody blood.

I appreciate the one I have but I feel terrible that he longs for a sibling and has a mother who is falling apart.  Really, far more the latter.  We all have disappointments.  He'll have to deal with them eventually.

Can't give my husband a baby, either.  Yeah, that feels awesome.  

It's hard believing in the fact there's a purpose in everything.  Where the fuck is the purpose in not only taking my babies away but having me bleed like this?  WHERE IS THE FUCKING SENSE?

I'm so tired of having a broken heart.  I'm so sick of grief.  I really live in my moments of happy but sometimes the hurt overshadows the rest.  Today is one of those days and I'm so fucking done with it.

I can't blame the masses for avoiding me and my fucking pain.  I commend those who do hang out.  But I don't get it, for sure.  I'm toxic right now.  

Thank Goddess that I'm getting a healing today.  It cannot come fast enough.  I will be working with a healer that I trust more than I can express.  But it's hard to believe that I can receive healing.  It's hard to believe that there is more to life than the grief I've always known.

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