The what ifs, would haves and should haves are relentless in their torment.
It dawned on me Friday that I'd have been 37 weeks pregnant with our twins by that date. I would likely have had a c-section one day this week since the plan is never to let me labor again.
What a different life I'm living than the one I should be.
Some might argue that this IS the life I'm meant to be living because I made my bed, as it were. I chose to try to have children, and try and try again after each loss. But it seems wrong to me. No life should have this much death in it. This much torment and struggle seems cruel and unusual to me, and I can't fathom that this is the way it should be.
I'm also very tormented by the fact that I know that the sorrow is draining me of energy and making it hard to truly see the joy that is in my life at the moment. I live in fear that I'm going to regret my single-minded focus one day, having, in hindsight, recognized what joys and loves I've allowed to let quietly slip away while I was busy grieving.
The thing is I don't know how to not be grieving. I don't know how you shut it off and ignore it. I don't know how to forget it.
I am almost always aware of my sorrow.
I don't enjoy the moments when I realize how pregnant I should be or how old one of my five dead babies would be. But the moments come to me just the same and I don't know how to stop them. I don't dwell on them either, but the fact that they come is torment enough.
My therapist says that all these moments of struggle are an opportunity to process more of my grief. I will be forever grateful to her for giving me permission to feel what I'm feeling and, more importantly, for telling me that it is my mind's way of healing.
Thomas' birthday is three weeks away. The twins should be here by now.
The house is silent.
It's just so much to process.