Coping (or not)

Coping (or not)

Beyond the exome - and I swear to you this not-yet-started test takes up 80 percent of my thought process - I would be remiss to ignore the process of healing my destroyed soul.

When I say I have grieved, that I am still grieving, it is an understatement.

Oh, I get out of bed in the morning and make Hubby's breakfast. I get the kiddo to school. I go to work. I clean the house and make the meals.

I function, but it ain't pretty.

In the last two months, I have lost 23 pounds from my 126 pound self. I sleep with the help of an anti-anxiety pill, which sometimes works and sometimes doesn't. Now, in the latest cliche, I blog late into the night. Oy.

After my insurance company denied me grief counseling, I sought the help of a professional who referred me to a free counseling center. I have to drive an hour to get there, but I go once a month.

I will say that there is something wonderful about discussing my feelings with a counselor who only deals with grief. I am not a puzzle to diagnose here. We both know why I am sad and we both know she can't bring my babies back to me. But she makes me feel less crazy.

For instance, I am not suicidal. I feel the need to assert this fact to every doctor I see. I want there to be no misunderstanding - I will not take my own life.

But it would be absolutely fine by me if I didn't wake up tomorrow morning.

This, apparently, is a normal response to extreme grief.

But how exactly do you verbalize the death of two babies? How to you say, "I lost two babies in seven months. I had to tell my child her sibling died TWICE. But don't you worry about me...I'm doing just fine."

I will never recover from this. I know that sounds self defeating, but it is my honest truth. The woman I was on this day one year ago is gone and she can't come back. I know my family is waiting on me to snap out of it, and I know they think they are being patient with me until I come to my senses. But I also know that there is a part of me that is over. Even if, and IF is the million dollar word around here, even IF I got pregnant and had a healthy child, I can never go back to the me that existed before my boys died.

I guess the fallout from that truth remains to be seen