A tiny casket and one mourner

As I was racing down the freeway to class after work I passed a cemetery. I pass it every week when I travel that way and I noticed before that the children's plots were closest to the road. It always bothered me as they seemed relegated to the furthest corner and always subjected to the sounds of the roadway. Anyways, I always found myself glancing over when I drove by....I can't help it. Today was different. Today there was a small tent erected over a tiny hole and above that sat a tiny white coffin. Two chairs stood nearby with one silhouetted figure hunched over shrouded in black. It was stark, heartbreaking, and raw. I wanted to pull over and scream, to what I presumed to be the mother, "You are not alone, I am so sorry you are burying your precious baby". Then I was angry, angry that they were alone to grieve this child, angry they had to bury their child at all, angry that every time they go to visit that little plot the view they will have is of cars racing by and angry that the sound they will hear is droning engines and honking. Then I cried for a few miles, straightened myself up and realized how silly it was that I cried for someone's burial choices when I didn't even bury my own. I didn't even do anything with her ashes......maybe it's time I did.

Another change

So I found out today that I will be starting CNM (Certified Nurse Midwife) school in September. I am thrilled, scared, and take this new direction as an honor. I know enough about myself to know that I am not ready to deliver babies just yet. I think I will focus on woman care for a while until I know I can come to birth without bringing my fear with it. :)

A warm welcome to baby Sabrina!

A dear BLM that I have come to be good friends with online and on the phone has had her rainbow baby!!! A sweet girl named Sabrina. I want so much to call and squeal with delight  and gush on about how beautiful the little peanut is, but ......but I know the painful dichotomy that often accompanies the intense joy that comes with a living baby in your arms. You are hyper vigilant, worried, obsessed with every breathe, sound, and fluctuation in temperature. Normal new baby concerns are blown into major panic worthy events. This new wonder may be shadowed by a newly rekindled sense of loss....what if the other one(s) had cried...would they have sounded the same, looked the same, made the same funny fists with their thumbs tucked inside. I know these feelings are not exclusive to me...actually they are downright normal. So I guess I will let them settle in at home, get comfortable and let the initial wave of mega emotions ebb out ....and then I'll call and have her describe her delicious daughter to me in excruciatingly wonderfully perfect detail.

Broken

It's been almost 2 and a half years since Sage was born and died. One would expect that you would be "okay" by now...and you had a beautiful healthy baby since that you are more than just "okay"...you should be good...great....thankful for life's blessings and ready to get back up on that horse and be the brave little cowgirl everyone expects you to be. Right? Wrong....I have come to the conclusion that even though life has moved on and I am able to kind of keep up with it and even though I DO have a wonderful son and daughter that are my universe, I realize that I will always be broken. I will always be just a bit off, socially awkward and lonely. I thought that I would get back to some sort of normal by now. I thought that she wouldn't creep into my thoughts as much now, but she does...not her face, but the idea of her....reminding me constantly of what I didn't get to keep. I wonder if I am mentally ill....maybe the depression was worse than I thought and I should have stayed on the meds longer. Maybe it's the rest of my life being insane that fuels the rest to follow suit....I don't know. I just know that I'm tired, broken, and I am nobody's cowgirl.