I find myself lost. It's been a week and a half since the miscarriage, and this numbness won't go away. On the outside, I am still smiling. Staying strong for my family, laughing with my mother and sister and her kidlets, hanging out with my angelboy, trying to stay active and positive.
I feel like I am dying. Cracked inside, empty. Having no job gives me plenty of time to think, and that is the last thing I want to do. So I spend my days reading, nose pressed against book pages in an attempt to fade into another world, become someone, anyone else. At night, when everyone is asleep, the tears come. Ripping out of my chest, tearing my throat with a harshness that scares me.
It is impossible to talk about. Impossible to explain. I had this life inside of me, part Starchild and part Angelboy. I wanted that future. I would put my hand to my belly and whisper songs to my starbaby, telling it stories and how I would always protect it. Angelboy would laugh and press his hand to my stomach, kissing me and glowing. He was young but he stepped up to the plate. We were going to have a child and we were going to be the best parents ever.
Then the bleeding started. Eight weeks pregnant, all I could do is watch in horror. And so my baby died. And I lied. Because my starbaby died in the one place he should have been safe.
And now I am left here. Empty and aching. I don't know how to move forward. So I pretend to be okay. But I am not. I don't think I will be for a long time. I just don't know how to heal. Everyone is pretending that nothing happened. Angelboy is no different. He held me while I wept, and he shed a few tears himself. But after that.... Nothing. It is like it never happened. It's like we never talked about baby names or made plans and watched other little kidlings and dreamed about our own.
It's like... This is my nightmare. And I can't forget. I don't even want to get out of bed. Because there is no point. I bought craft supplies to keep me busy, lots of plushie animals to turn into rainbow colorful backpacks.... But I can't get started. I have no motivation. I try to read, and I can only get through a few chapters before I have to put it down and start another one. I try to look for jobs, and I just don't care. My phone rings with calls and text messages, and I don't even have the energy to answer.
My Starbaby WAS there. Was a part of me and I loved him so much. And now there is nothing. I pretend and everyone pretends. I feel like I am going crazy. People say, "Take it one day at a time." And I want to snarl at them, push them away. I am surviving one hour at a time. And I don't think they realize just how difficult that is.
I can't breathe.
I don't know how to move forward.
This is not like me. But I can't fix it.
I feel so helpless.
