Thoughts on Missing my Mia

I miss my baby.
I want to write about something else, something important, something about my life, maybe, or my other relationships, a poem or a song... something!
But all I can think about is her, missing her.

I was reading a book yesterday and one of the lines hit me. It said, "I lost something I never knew I needed." In the book, she was talking about her mother who died when she was a baby.
But I lost something I never knew I needed, too
I never knew how much I would miss Mia
I never knew how much I would miss having faith in my body (Now I can only stare at this lump of flesh with a look of pure betrayal.)
I never knew how much I would miss that blind hope, that innocence, that naive nature that comes from living in a world where babies don't die.
I lost something I never knew I needed. I never knew I needed her. But now that she's gone my heart is empty.
***
Yesterday I got to be alone. Cam (Mia's daddy) went out and left me in the house alone to do whatever I wanted.
My first reaction was, "Oh my goodness, what the heck am I going to do? I'm on my own. I can do anything I want. There's nothing that I have to do. Don't leave me!"
Early yesterday morning a friend of ours came by the house. He was collecting bottles for a road trip he and some other friends were planning for this summer. It was a road trip Cam and I were supposed to go on, our baby between us in the back seat. After I lost Mia I didn't even want to think about going anywhere, especially not a trip I had planned to go on with my baby. So this friend came by, and I am so thankful Cam was still home. I hid in our room. I know, it wasn't the mature, adult thing to do but I did it anyway. Cam talked to him, handed him our bottles and sent him on his way.
I don't feel like I wish I was still going. I can't imagine going, actually. It just makes me wish Mia was still alive, that I was able to do those things, that I felt like I could get up and go on a roadtrip.
Cam left and I had the house to myself. Despite my panic attack earlier, the silence wasn't as bad as I had expected.
I had a nap (Glorious!) and did some laundry, and I dug into a new book (the one I mentioned above) and I missed Mia.
***
I tell myself I'm going to be fine. Some moments I even believe it. There had to have been a reason Mia left us so soon, and while I don't understand why I have to believe there's a reason. I throw myself into growing and patching up the broken places and I tell my story - Mia's story - and people tell me things about how strong I am and how I survived the unthinkable and all this beautiful stuff and I think maybe - just maybe - something good can come from this tragedy and I can use my story to inspire others, to do something good, to make Mia's life (and death) matter.
Other days I'm a ball on the floor. My heart aches with the longing for my baby. I wail and groan and flail around. I scream at anyone who will listen how this isn't fair.
Because it's not fair.
Because Mia should be here with me.
Because this shouldn't have happened to someone like me.
I miss her today. I missed her when all my friends were talking about their roadtrip. I missed her when a girl I know announced she was pregnant, and bleeding. She was going in for more tests to try and figure out why she was bleeding, and if she was losing the baby. And while I feel for her, and I don't want her to go through this I got mad. I wrung my hands and tried to count to 10. A part of me feels like I want to be the only one with a dead baby. No, you can't have a dead baby, it's mine! And I know that's selfish, and mean, and hateful, but as I sat there with all my grief and heard friends say they will be thinking about and praying for this friend and her baby I wanted to scream, "What about my baby?!?" I missed her when I was going through the motions of normalcy, and in that moment when someone mentioned something and I got a little spooked and made a mad dash for the restroom, tripping over my heels.
I missed her today. I missed her everytime I took a breath, and when I held my friend's daughter who would have been the same age as Mia.
I missed her.
I miss you Mia.
***
How are you? And what are your thoughts on missing? Does it get any easier?