Because really, how much is there left to say?

It's been about four months or so since my last post here. I guess after a while I've started to feel like I'm beating a dead horse. I mean, how much is there really left to say? Logan's second anniversary came and went on January 24th, mostly in silence. Not too many people even knew, or remembered, or at least mentioned it. We didn't commemorate the day or anything. I didn't cry. I mean, not that I wasn't sad, but I seemed to feel all dried up that day. Empty. Defeated. Deflated. I made a real point to try and be genuinely happy and celebratory for my daughter's 3rd birthday (a quick 3 days after Logan's anniversary), and I think I did a good job. These days my heartache is more of a shadow. Its always there, in the background. Easily found, most times ignored. But regardless of how I appear to those around me, and even how I seem to myself at times, I am not over it. I am not okay with it. I have not dealt with it, nor have I found peace in it. I guess I just feel helpless, or hopeless about ever finding the big meaning of it all. Most of the time I try to convince myself that maybe there just isn't a bigger meaning to any of it. Like so many other horrific things in life, Logan's death was just random...just like his life. No more a punishment or judgement from God than is child abduction or molestation. Horrible things happen all the time. But try as I may to be glad that we haven't had to experience other horrible things, I don't find comfort in any of it. I don't know that I'm still mad at God these days. I guess if anything I just feel abandoned by him. But then, sometimes I just feel nothing. It just happened. Its part of life. GOD didn't DO this to me. It wasn't DONE TO ME. It just was what it was. Down Syndrome happens to lots of people. Most of those babies die before birth. We're just among those numbers. But I can't get past the giant WHY? Why us? Why Logan? Why did we have to get pregnant THAT month? Its really just a big circle of whys. Questions I will never have the answers to. And even if I did, would it matter? Would any reason why be enough for me to nod in agreement, to believe it was the right decision, the only option, the best choice? I doubt it. I doubt I would ever feel ok with the reason why. I wish I could figure out a way to let that go, the question why. It eats at me.

I've often talked about how Logan's death has changed so many facets of our lives. The big one lately is the subject of another baby. I wish I wasn't so scared to have another child. I mean after I manage to get past the issues in the bedroom, then I fear having another child with DS. Then I fear the death of that child, and I fear the life of that child. Having a handicapped child certainly would change life around here, and I would have a lot of guilt. I know that lots of people who have handicapped children will tell everyone what a blessing that child is, and though I don't doubt it I fear the affect it would have on the healthy living child that I currently have. A life that would forever be altered because I was too selfish to be happy with what I had. Money that would have gone towards a better life for her (college and what not) would be used on surgeries and special care for a child that I forced into our lives. And say that child is healthy, and lives...will I ruin that child? I fear I may smother my children. I fear that my third child will forever live in Logan's shadow. I fear that my fear of anything bad coming to my children will haunt me and turn me into some uncontrollable psychopath! I fear getting pregnant, and I fear not getting pregnant. I fear that not giving my daughter a sibling will leave her lonely and "missing" a big part of life. I fear that having another child will leave less of me for her. The whole thing just flat out terrifies me these days, and has become a constant nagging in my mind. I feel like there is no great outcome to be had. Having another child will not alleviate the sadness of Logan, it may only confuse it, if not exacerbate it. I am confused, and I am scared.

Fear is what pretty much defines me these days. Fear that my living child will die. Fear that I may ruin her. Fear that I might let down my husband in my efforts to find some proverbial missing link. A link that can not ever be found. Fear that my God has forsaken me, or that I am too far gone to ever find my way back in my faith and beliefs. Fear that I will never be able to forgive God for the enormous heartache that we have. Fear that I will not be able to get pregnant, or to carry to term, or to produce a healthy baby. And oddly enough lately I have taken on this huge fear of death. I lay awake at night, I obsess about it while I'm driving. I think about my death on a regular basis and how it would affect my dh or my daughter. What will happen to me when I die. What happens if I die soon. Fear that any day could be my last. Some horrible accident or disease that steals me away from my daughter, my heartbroken husband.

Fear.

Perhaps its another phase of grief. I will hope this is the case.