The Accident

Today, after coming home from a hair appointment where I chopped off a lot of my hair (I needed a change so bad I was ready to go at it with my sewing scissors! Thank goodness my hair dresser had an opening today, she did a much better job then I would have!) I got into a car accident.
It was a young guy driving, barely 16. He hit the back end of my vehicle, smashing in the back pretty good. You could see he was pretty shaken up, freaking out, mostly muttering the phrase, "My parents are going to kill me!"
Nobody got hurt and my car is still driveable.
Thinking I'll settle in with a drink and a movie tonight. After these past few really hard days (Missing my baby a lot, and with the accident tonight) I'm thinking I need just a little numb.

A 'Missing Mia' day

There are days I think I am doing better.
I am not crying through every conversation and this hole in my chest hurts a little bit less and I think that, yes, I am going to make it through this.
And then there are nights like tonight. I am thankful nights like this are few and far between, but when the waves of sadness and sorrow come they nearly take my breath away.
I miss her tonight. I miss her a lot.
It didn't start out as overwhelming sadness. I was just sad. I stayed at home and watched crime shows on TV and I made Mac and Cheese for lunch and even managed to eat half a bowl and I tweezed my eyebrows (Probably not the best idea for today!) 
It started out as just being sad. I don't go back to work until the New Year and while I'm grateful for time off (God knows I needed it) the silence around my house is so freaking loud. I sit there and there's nothing to distract me, nothing to stop me from missing her.
I sent a text to a friend this afternoon, telling her I was having a hard 'missing Mia' day. She never replied.
I had to have this conversation I didn't want to have about what I'm going to do with my life and the only answer I can come up with is I have no idea. I thought I knew, once. Before grief and my dead daughter, I knew what I wanted to do. I was taking classes and working towards it and I was going to have this dream job. And while I can still do this job and I am still taking classes, I don't know if I want to. I don't know what I want to do.

I just miss her tonight. I feel so lost, and alone, and angry. I feel like I've written a million words tonight trying to calm myself down and I threw things at the wall and pulled my hair until strands of it came out when I pulled my hands away.
I don't know what I'm supposed to do. I feel like I should know. This is my life, I'm supposed to know. But I feel so lost, and I don't know.
I just don't know anymore.

That Christmas

This Christmas has become that Christmas.
My first Christmas without her has passed. As the actual day approached I found myself not in the Christmas Spirit, found myself dreading the actual day.
And when it came, gathered around family and friends, I wanted nothing more than for this day to be over. Nothing was the way it should be. I couldn't make myself be happy when everything felt so wrong.
So, when the clock struck midnight and turned from December 25 to December 26, I let out a sigh of relief.
I made it through my first Christmas without, the first of many to come.

I miss you, sweet girl. I wish you could have been here. I'm sorry.
I love you
Mama

Part One - D-day

I started this little journal file on my computer. It's password protected, and just started out as a place to write my thoughts out. I expected it to be a couple hundred words - her birth story and nothing more. But it's turning into 10,000 words and instead of just her birth story it has become my story with her, and a place where I talk and write about her and cry and get angry and grieve.
I'm not feeling very wordy this late December night. The room is hot and my palms are sweaty and I cut my thumb today while trying to cut some veggies for dinner because I wasn't paying attention.
So I thought I'd share a little bit of what I've been writing over in that online journal - her birth story, her death story, and mine too.
...
...

 It was September 10. I wasn't prepared for what was going to happen. The night before the appointment where I would find out she was dead I went out for dinner with a friend of mine. My mom and I camped out in a hotel room and I watched the premiere of Breaking Amish and slept under crisp white sheets. It wasn't a remarkable night, except that I wasn't nervous, or scared. I was expecting to go home with the news, "Just wait. It will happen when it's time. Everything is fine."

We got to the hospital and we were late and I filled out forms and waited for the doctor. I rested my hand on my growing belly and glanced around the room at mother's with babies and pregnant mama's and pictures of newborn babies that covered the walls.

The doctor called me in and I rose and followed him to this little tiny room and sat on the table and we talked and then he did an ultrasound. After a few minutes I was allowed to sit back up. Something was wrong.

 I wrapped my arms around my stomach and wanted nothing more then to run. I didn't want to hear whatever news was going to come out of his mouth. I wanted to get out of this room, to put on my shoes and run waddle out the door.

 He told me my baby girl was dead. And I sat there, numb.

Everything after that became a blur and I barely remember being taken to another room and the phone calls that were made to tell everyone that my baby was dead and we ate lunch at this little cafe and I tried to believe everything was fine. We would go home now and nothing would have changed.

But everything did change. I pushed and I screamed and I cried and people kept telling me I was doing great and all I wanted to do was scream at them. I kept thinking, "I can't do this!" And then something inside of me said, "Do this for her."

At 11:04am on September 10, Amelia Mae was born.

 

 

My Truth

I've debated whether or not i should post this here. I've gone back and forth in my head, trying to decide the consequences of what might happen if I allowed myself to whisper the truth.
On one hand there's the fact that the few people who read my blog may not understand. You might be angry, or disappointed in me. Trust me, if you feels these things about me chances are I am already feeling them in regards to myself.
But I can't just ignore the real story and I can't just stop writing and so I must shove my pride into the back closet, place duct tape around it's mouth and begin to tell my story.
I've hinted at it before, and I'll say it again, I'm young. If you want to know how young, I'll tell you. I'm 16.
My daughter, Mia, was stillborn on September 10. This is true.
I'm not married. I'm not a stepmother.
And writing this all I am already sitting here fearing the criticism I might recieve. I am fearing being told that by lying about my story I am shaming the baby loss community, even though my baby died.
I thought maybe, by pretending to be someone I'm not, my loss would be validated more.
And even though by writing all of this maybe I am being that 16 year old girl and that's showing but mostly I hope it shows maturity.

I apologize to everyone I may have hurt in pretending. I hope you can find it in your heart's to forgive me.
In the end I would rather be hated for who I am than accepted for who I'm not.
Know I deeply care about every single person I have met in this baby loss community, who has welcomed me with open arms. I feel loved here, which is part of the reason I am telling my truth.

There's so many other things I want to say, but I'm not going to tag them onto the end of this post. Maybe someday I'll write them out here - if anyone decides to keep reading.
Again, I'm sorry, and I am so thankful for the chance to share my story, and the memory of my sweet girl with all of you

Emily