Everyday I go for a walk. I breathe in the fresh air and remind myself that the world is still turning. The sun rises and the sun sets. I cry a little less each day. I have started brushing my hair again. Flossing my teeth. All the things I stopped doing as they seemed so insignificant, so pointless in the presence of so much pain.
The toughest time is first thing in the morning. I still dream that I am pregnant. I dream of the baby that was supposed to be here in October. And when I wake up in the morning I still think that I am pregnant for a second or two. As my eyes flutter open and I see that morning light has filled the bedroom, the dream-world fades and being pregnant becomes just a memory. Just a wonderful, beautiful memory.
It hurts when I realize that becoming a mum in 2010 is impossible now. There will be no 2010 baby. I was so happy to think that I would have a baby this year. I would have been a mum in my 30th year. I would have been 6 months pregnant on my 30th birthday. All this hurts so much. It scares me to think I have to suffer through these landmarks, always knowing what should have been in the back of my mind.
Right now it feels like I was never really pregnant. That it was all really just a dream. It was simply a glimpse at another life. A glorious joy filled life. And I feel like I have just dropped 1000 feet. Slammed back down to reality. So this is what forgetting to pack a parachute feels like. Ouch.
