So Dave and I went to see a counselor tonight.
To recap the conversation, a few short points:
- How are you sleeping? "4 days out of 7 per week, not bad. 3 or so days per week, bad. Can't fall asleep, wake up in a panic, can't go back to sleep, horrible nightmares." That's totally normal.
- How would you, in a word, sum up how you feel? "Empty." Oh, that's totally normal.
- Are you going to try again? "Yes, but I'm convinced I won't be able to get pregnant again." That feeling is normal. You'll have a hard time going through a subsequent pregnancy.
She specializes in marriage and family counseling, particularly in child loss, even further in infant and pregnancy loss. She told us that in her professional experience, infant and late pregnancy loss is the hardest thing to deal with that she has seen with her patients, in terms of the feelings that come along with it and the accompanying physical and hormonal issues the woman deals with.
It feels good to be validated and to be told that no, I'm not crazy. On the other hand, I feel so angry that I even have to go see a counselor because my daughter died. I will never understand the why of this, and I am pretty sure that question will haunt me the rest of my life.
It's so frustrating and I so miss my daughter. It's hard to accept that in a fundamental sense I have no control, I really couldn't have saved her, and that I never get to see her again until heaven. Most days lately, that just feels like such a long time.
Last night, memories of when we were in the hospital came to me. I remembered being in the hospital room, holding her and caressing her sweet head and face with my hand. I can still close my eyes and remember how her beautiful, soft little head felt under my hand. Sometimes I can actually feel my heart beating out of my chest as if it wants to go to her.
On an up note, my daughter has changed me in ways for the better. I try to be more kind to people, and this is because of her. I cling to the small things now to be grateful, and this is because of her. She has entirely changed me, and I pray that God give me the strength to use that change to help other people.
Love you, my Georgie-girl. Miss you so much, Mommy.