21 weeks.

I can’t believe it’s been so long, sweet baby girl. It’s impossible. Some days it doesn’t feel like you were ever here, but part of my soul is missing so I know that you were. You were real. You are loved. You will always be my daughter.

Tuesday is my least favorite day of the week; It should be my favorite. Shane is off work at 1:30, he comes home, we go out to dinner and go shopping. It’s a very very good day. But, I had Kenley on a Tuesday. She was with us every time we went out on a Tuesday. After we had her, we tried to go back to “normal” and went out. I’ll never forget it; We went to BW3’s and the host said “just you three today?”… Ouch. It made me ugly cry right when we sat at our table. That was one of the first triggers I had when we started going out again.

We usually go to Toys r us and let Landon buy something or get him a book. We went there every week while I was pregnant; Start to finish. The same women worked there the entire time. They saw us each time. They commented on my pregnant belly, and saw me waddling around. They knew I was pregnant. What do they think now? Now that it’s just us three again…after 9 months…we don’t have a baby, but they knew we were pregnant. Same goes for the restaurants/other stores we would frequent. The same people worked there and took care of us. They saw me; they knew we were expecting.

I’m not expecting those people to be like “hey! where’s your baby?”…I’m assuming they might know deep down what happened. It all kind of comes back to the “do I look better than I feel” thing. I feel awful; empty, alone, and just like complete fucking shit. I’m able to carry myself better in public now, and I don’t cry randomly over things anymore. I still cry, a lot, but I really try to hold it together when we’re out.

I don’t know; this whole thing is just so hard to navigate.  Like I’ve said before, it just feels like everyone should know. I’m sure this is the case with other people and their losses (of children, parents, friends, etc…). You just feel so shitty that you expect everyone to just be able to pick up on it. But, even if they do pick up on it…what am I expecting? Am I expecting some random stranger to be like “I’m so sorry you lost your daughter“- No. But on the other hand, yeah, maybe I am.

Wouldn’t it be helpful if we just had giant neon signs we had to wear above our heads that alerted the other humans what we’re going through?

The closer I get to the 6 month mark, the weirder everything gets. Six months is coming up. She will be dead for six months. That’s 75% of the time I carried her. How is it almost June? I have not been present the past 6 months; it doesn’t feel like my time is moving like other peoples. Has this past 21 weeks gone by super slow for some people? It just seems like my life is in fast forward; like I’m emerging from the aftermath of a tornado.

I feel like I’m constantly having an out of body experience, but it’s just my life “after” Kenley.

 

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5 thoughts on “21 weeks.

  1. I can relate to a lot of this, an out of body experience, feeling alone and like “complete fucking shit” so often. I’m so sorry. It’s so very hard… Another baby loss mom friend and I joke that everyone should be required to wear a shirt claiming their biggest tragedies – so people can know what we’re going through as well as so if someone’s biggest fucking tragedy is losing their cat, I can avoid them… Sending huge hugs.

    Liked by 1 person

    • Haha! You know, I had to put my cat down in 2012 and I was devastated. I thought it was the worst thing I would go through. Then we had 2 miscarriages and I thought ok no that’s it. Then we lost Kenley. They’re getting increasingly worse and it’s terrifying the possibilities. Your post about your husband and uber made me laugh because I totally get it. I’m constantly feeling that way when my husband drives to work. I just know he’s going to go off the bridge into the river or something. Life after loss is insane, or maybe I’m just insane. Who knows; the lines are blurry.

      Liked by 1 person

      • You’re not insane. I think when you’ve been through something terrible and know how quickly it all came crashing down it’s easier to envision some version of the worst happening again. And no offense to animals (I’d be devastated to lose my dog), but this friend and I joke that we’re grief snobs, and it’s hard to interact with others when we know they’ve experienced far less, comparatively speaking. Not that we should compare, but sometimes it’s hard not to when losing your child is so fucking awful and sometimes no one seems to understand. Hugs.

        Liked by 1 person

  2. it’s truly like living in an alternate reality…sometimes, I don’t want people I regularly saw in passing while pregnant to know she died, because then in another alternate reality if they think she’s alive, then maybe in that reality I’m at home with my baby and we are happy…so weird right?! The bizarre things grief does to the mind.

    Liked by 1 person

    • Grief is so insane. I feel like sometimes I have word vomit. I just talk about her every where and whenever I can. I just saw my clock say 11:11 and my first thought was “I want Kenley back” and I literally had to tell myself that it was impossible. Uh hello brain, it’s reality–what you just wishes for is impossible…please come back to earth.

      But like you said, sometimes in that alternate reality, maybe we are happy with our girls.

      Like

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