Grief is a circle, not a line. Sometimes it feels right up on me, like I've just been punched. Other times it's like the space between blows and I think maybe it's getting further away from me. Then it hits me again. Like a circle, around and around.
The best thing all of you can do for me right now is pray for us, love us and not expect us to get over this. We won't. I'll "move on," so to speak, have joy again, have more children (God willing) and live the rest of my life as faithfully as I can so I can meet my daughter again.
But I will never get over this until Heaven. Until then, speak to me of my daughter. Acknowledge that she was real, beautiful, perfect. Speak her name to me. I have never heard a sweeter and yet more piercing word, but her name, she, is with me all the time.
Acknowledge her. My first daughter. A child of God. A real person. A granddaughter, a niece. Hopefully, someday a sister.
I want to hear her name, spoken, in prayers, whenever. I promise that it won't make me more upset than I already am. To not speak her name hurts even worse, and makes me feel as if the world won't acknowledge that she lived, that I was pregnant with her, that she was 21 inches long, 7 lbs 13 oz.
Act like she doesn't exist to me and I will not hold back with you. They always say that hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.
No, hell hath no fury like a grieving mother.
Ok, no more posts for awhile. I will not lose it in the airport. Been there, done that.