Grief

Since we first lost Connor we have used the line "Colby is why we're still going."   He was our reason for functioning.  He IS our reason for living.  And in the beginning it seemed that having Colby made things easier in a sense.  Not that they were ever easy.

Now I wonder more and more if having Colby (while I wouldn't change it!) has actually made things more difficult when it comes to wading through the grief of losing Connor.  In the beginning we were heartbroken that we lost Connor.  We were able to focus on it for... hours maybe.  We still had Colby who needed us.  While he obviously wasn't as sick as Connor, he was still sick.  We were dealing with metabolic acidosis, PDA, lung disease, and other uncertainties.  We were distracted from the trauma of losing Connor by the needs of our other precious baby.

Now, as the stress of being in the NICU for over 100 days without an end in sight combines with the exhaustion of working and being at the hospital basically every waking moment and the jealousy of seeing healthy, happy pregnant ladies and newborn overtakes me, I feel completely and utterly overwhelmed.  

All the time.  

There is no escape.  

Everything reminds me of Connor, the life I had planned, and the fact that my baby is dead and is never coming back.  I will always have more children than I will ever put in the car.  More children than I will ever send off to school.  More children than I will ever go on vacation with.  More children than I will ever kiss good night.

And as my heart breaks and I become overwhelmed,  I remember that I took ZERO pictures of my precious baby while he was living.  My dad took all the pictures-- the few pictures I took were after he was gone.  I regret not taking everything in during those precious 43 hours.  I thought I had forever.  And with every thought my heart breaks a little more than I thought possible.

NOTHING is how I planned it even just 20 short weeks ago.  This is not where I'm supposed to be.  

I wake up in the morning and get ready for another day of school.  I pump for my baby I can't take care of, I look at photos of the baby I can't hold, and then I try to get through another day.  I take care of other people's children and get them ready for life.  And I can't even get my own babies ready for life.  Connor's life was cut too short and Colby still doesn't seem to belong to me in some ways.  After school I drive to see my baby in a sterile hospital room where he's hooked up to beeping monitors.   I hold him, but know I have to say goodbye again.  For over the 100th time.  After the visit that is always too short, I head home to get things done and repeat the process.

And my heart is broken.  I find it hard to get through those days.  I ache- literally, painfully ache- to have my babies with me.  I try not to be jealous and to be happy for others, but seeing blissfully pregnant ladies makes my stomach hurt.  Seeing twins pushed in strollers brings tears to my eyes.  And the knowledge that I will never bring Connor home sends me spiraling downward.  

When we were dealing with infertility I was sure that the negatives would have to get easier with each passing month.  But they never did.  If anything, the no's got harder to stomach each time.    When we lost Connor I thought it would get easier as time went on.  And it did for a little... while the distraction was still there.  But now I can't be distracted from my pain anymore and the grief is only getting stronger.  I'm heartbroken over the baby I can't take home forever.  I'm heartbroken that Colby's not home.  I'm heartbroken that I no longer have any control in my life.

I'm just hurting.  And I don't know how to fix it right now.