In Limbo

I feel like I have multiple personalities right now. I can manage to make it through a day without dissolving into a puddle of tears. If I ever find myself home alone and quiet, I become a big mess very quickly. I try to at least appear as if I'm functioning on the outside, but on the inside I'm not and parts of me don't want to. I'm trying to stay positive about the future, but the future is so uncertain and scary. Sometimes I just sit and stare off into space, unsure of how I feel or how I should feel.

The functional side of me is usually pretty numb. I ignore what's going on in the back of my mind and spend a lot of time convincing everyone around me that I am okay. I absolutely hate the occasional run in with someone I've not seen lately. Twice today I had someone ask me how "the little mommy" was feeling. Each time I took a deep breath and told them we lost the baby. It's getting easier to detach from that statement, but watching the horror cross their face is awful. I feel so guilty. I feel like I have single handedly ruined their day. I don't like being that person.

The messy side of me usually waits till I get home. I will run myself ragged for as long as I can, avoiding home and any quiet alone time I might have. The quiet is usually inevitable though and when it comes, so does the flood of tears. Sometimes I fight the tears and sometimes I just let the overtake me for a while. I will pull the covers tight over my entire body like a cocoon and the grief consumes me. It is here that I acknowledge the empty ache. I miss him most in this place. I have my darkest thoughts just after this too. Sometimes I cry so hard my muscles ache the next day. I hate that place and I will fight to the very end of my strength to avoid being alone with myself.

I am not sleeping well. I fight sleep a lot too. I have these nightmares. I keep dreaming that I am running frantically around searching for something. Sometimes it is clear what I'm searching for and other times I just know I'm searching for something. The panic is always there though and when I wake up I know what I've been searching for. I'm always searching for Espe. I will hunt for him for hours in my dreams terrified that I have lost my precious baby. It makes waking up in the mornings a gut wrenching experience. I've been managing about three or four hours of sleep each night, but even that sleep isn't good. I wake up exhausted and heartbroken. The circles under my eyes make me look like I've been in a nasty fight. I've considered taking something, but that brings up a whole new personality...

We're trying. I hate it. I hate saying it, I hate thinking it, I simply hate it. I bled for 8 days. I decided it was important to claim my body again and we started back up the first night I had stopped. I cried the whole time. I didn't want to be in that situation. I didn't want my body back as my own. I wanted Espe back. I'm glad we did what we did, but it was still hard.

I did some reading and heard a lot of stories about people ovulating and successfully conceiving just two weeks after a loss. I held on to that hope for a couple of days to get me through the hardest parts of my grief, but I'm trying to be realistic now. It took us ten years for the first. I'm not a patient person either. I am preparing for another long haul with this. Still, we have consulted a calendar and we'll see where it leads. We're trying to have fun with it and we started early so we could hold on to at least a little spontaneity. I think it will be okay, but I cry every single time. It will get better I'm sure. Consulting the calendar is the only thing we have done so far, and it's all we plan on doing for a while. I just want a loose idea of when we need to be busiest. If I've learned one thing from this, it's that whatever is meant to be will be no matter what I do. I'm trying to embrace that philosophy.

The only thing we can do is wait. I'm so tired of waiting.