The big bad due date

Today was Logan's due date. The day was uneventful. David took a half a day to be with me, and I appreciated having him around. I don't know, today just didn't feel like anything. I think I am on such an emotional overload I can't process my emotions anymore. Today just felt like any other day. I'm sad, but I was sad yesterday. I'll be sad tomorrow. Maybe it's because I have a hard time thinking this should/would have been his real birthday. Maybe he'd have already come. Maybe he'd have been late. My daughter was born the day after her due date, so maybe Logan would have been born tomorrow. I think I am paying more attention to how my life is right now. What it would have been like to have a newborn right now. What it would have been like to be seriously pregnant and ready to pop. The thing is, I can sort of picture it, but not really. My dreams of Logan now feel vague. My memories of pregnancy feel like a distant dream. That makes me very blue. That I'm forgetting all of the little, insignificant things. I miss feeling his tiny little kicks. It was such a brief period that I was able to feel them. I wish I would have known my time was so short. I'm glad I didn't though.

We spent the day shopping, eating out and hanging out at the house while the muffin napped. It was nice to have David around. He kept my mind busy. I didn't want to think about it too much. I'm tired of dwelling, of crying, or feeling like my heart is split open. It's just gotten to be too much! But it was so nice to have someone there who was thinking about the same thing as me, but didn't have to talk about it. Someone who would grab my hand, and I would know, and he knew too. Someone who's heart ached just the same as mine. Someon who "got it".

I had a terrible dream last night. It just proves how screwed up my mind is over this. I don't remember much, but the key points where this:

A friend's baby died. Her dad poured the "baby" into my hands. It was an egg (chicken) that was cracked open in two halves and there were 4 yolks. 4 dead babies. I turned my hands over to get them out of my hands but they clung to me in goo (like egg white would do) and I was screaming "get them off of me!!" I remember feeling horrified in the dream. I remember knowing that I had a dead baby in the dream too.

Dreams...they can beat us to death sometimes.

I don't know if things are getting better. I'm leery to think so. I think I'm just on the crest of the wave right now. Up, and so soon will be down and drowning again. But, it's a relief to be here for the moment. My DH seems to be taking it harder now. But he says he knows things will eventually get better. I guess that's good. I'm not so sure on most days. Most days I think I will always feel just shy of vomiting.

I found out this evening that another friend I knew "back in the day" also lost a baby. She didn't go into specifics, and I was sad to hear about that. Who knew I would end up knowing so many people IRL who have lost children.

Well, so much for the horrifying climax I thought this horrible event was coming too. I guess it's just indicative of what this grief is destined to be for me...part of my every day reality. No real cimax to be had. Just a steadiness. Part of who I am, like a limp I suppose. The horrible accident that has left me maimed is over and gone...now I just limp along, a constant reminder that something terrible happened once. And how many people would have the audacity to ask about a limp? Maybe one day I'll be able to just limp through life and not have too much concern about my disability, I have a dead baby. It's a fact, and something I'll "deal" with everyday...while I go about living my otherwise "normal" life.