I just want to be left alone.

Maybe it's hormones. I dunno. I always seem to find dark days when I'm more hormonal. Not that I need a reason to cry for my son. I don't understand why hormones would play a roll in my grieving process. Not that I need more to add to it. I know on my "stable" days that life will go on, that it is going on, and that I'll survive and maybe I will go on to have more children...but then maybe I won't...but either way I'll be ok. The way I figure it, I have 7 "stable" days a month. Woman spend a week hanging with Aunt Flo, a week pre-menstrual, and about a week around the ovulatory time. So, that leaves me a week to not be bombarded with emotions and hormone induced lunacy. And in that week, I have to be careful not to run across any newborns, baby shower crap, movies or TV shows involving having a baby (or even worse, someone loosing a baby)...which seems to be more prevalent after your own child dies. So, that leaves me a few good days a month. Because when I'm pre-men all I can think about is how bad I want a baby, and that it's not fair that mine was taken away. When I'm ovo, all I can think about is making a baby. And when I am menstrual...well, that week just sucks anyway. But I have come to realize that no matter how much I'd like to move on, to feel better...there are about 21 days a month that are working against that. I'm tired. I'm tired of these tears that seem to come out of no where. The ones that make me wonder if maybe I'm not really coping as well as I'd like to believe, and that maybe I'm just ignoring or stuffing the sorrow down. And I don't like not knowing what causes the tears. Obviously they're rooted in my son, but why today? Why this afternoon more so than any other time? I wasn't watching anything, I wasn't listening to anything, I wasn't doing anything that would provoke my heart. It makes me mad. I just want to be left alone. I want the sorrow to go away. I want to feel normal and whole again. I don't want to feel like something is missing. I don't want to feel like I have to fix something, or like something is unfinished.

I had ice cream for lunch. You can laugh. My diet has been one failure and disappointment after the next and these past couple of weeks I just can't deal with it anymore. But I had a mini 1/2 fat ice cream, it's not like it was Haggan Das or anything. Anyhow, as I stood there peeling the cover off the tiny tub and arguing with myself that this isn't an appropriate lunch and that maybe I ought to go pick something else up, the ugly mean spirited side of my heart said to me, and I quote "It doesn't matter anyhow. You don't have any reason to take care of your body any more!" at which point I burst into sobs for the umpteenth time today. Odd, the things the dark side will whisper in ones ear. The horrible malicious thoughts that drive us to the guilt and self loathing we experience, as if the pain of your baby dying isn't enough, we must add to it. We are more cruel to ourselves than anyone else is. But, I don't find that knowledge to be comforting. I don't care if my hormones, or emotions or the dark side of my heart is what encapsulates me into a weeping mound of sadness. The fact remains that I still feel such sorrow. My dh says that he is sad everyday. And I realized that though I try like hell to pretend otherwise, I am too. Everyday I know my son is dead. I can't even say that I remember everyday, because there hasn't seemed to be a moment where I have forgotten. But nowadays I just feel worn down. Like how you feel after a crazy busy day. Too tired to fall asleep, to achy not to think about it, but too drained to cry or talk. And there seems to be a permanent lump in my throat.

My friends baby shower is in a month. She's having a boy. I don't know why that matters to me, that it's a boy, but it does. I wish it didn't. And I find that I am hurt, or mad or ambivalent towards her and her pregnancy because I tried so hard to reach out in the beginning and to help her not feel weird towards me, but in the end she shied away from me at every turn. And now I think I'm bitter at her for that. I don't know. My other friend, the other pregnant one, suggested us going in on a gift. I agreed, that way I wouldn't have to go shop for little boy things (not that there aren't other things to buy). But I don't even know if I am going or not. I should go. It's the grown up, right thing to do, and I don't think I'll have a melt down (although hopefully it'll be during my stable 7 days!). But what if I do? It scares me to go. It scares me to know that a little blue onesie could push me into hysterics. It scares me that she might feel weird if I'm there, and only invited me out of politeness. I hear she's huge. I haven't seen here since Logan died. I was supposed to meet up with her on Sunday and I found myself really not wanting to. I can't now anyhow, but I'm not disappointed.

Why is it that after our bodies betray us in such a horrible fashion do we still have such an overwhelming urge to do it again? We learn at a very young age that if it burns, we don't touch it again, ever. Why do I still want to run head first into producing another baby? Why am I counting down the days till we are cleared to try again (8, if your curious) when I know that I can't do it by myself? Why am I so freaked out about asking my DH how he feels about it? Actually, I think I know that answer, I just don't like it. He's been very honest from the get go that he's not ready...but I think that's what scares me the most. Having to rely on another person for their consent. And I wish there was something I could do to convince the both of us that it would work out, a dozen times over. That Logan's condition is a fluke. I keep reading that lately, how DS is just a fluke. Oooh, that makes me so mad! A fluke killed my baby! And why at 6 months gestated? Why not right away? Why not before I even knew I was pregnant? Why would he have to die when he was old enough to be delivered, to be seen, to be held, to be felt and heard? Still, at almost 6 months into my grief, I still have so many questions that scream for answers, when clearly there are none. But my heart wants answers, it wants to understand. It wants facts, and reasons.

Me? I just want to find peace. I want the lump in my throat to go away, and I want the knowledge that I had a son, and now he is dead to go away. I want the ache and the fear and the guilt and the sorrow...I want it all to go away. I just want to be left alone.

I want to have genuine happiness with out the shadow of sorrow.