Grief

The one thing about grief is that you never know when it's going to rear its ugly head.  And once it does, it pulls you beneath the surface causing your heart to race and leaving you searching for more air.  The air is hard to come by and is only a temporary reprieve while you look towards your next breath.  I truly believe this is what suffocation feels like.  At some points, it's worse than suffocation.  Unlike suffocating, there is no end to the torture you feel from grief.  There is also no way to prepare for when it hits.  It leaves you clawing your way to the surface only to be left emotionally and physically drained. 


Anything, and I mean anything, can cause it to overcome you.  For me, it's hearing babies cry, people talk about the happiness that is supposed to come along with pregnancy, and people being totally unaware of what they are saying around me. 


I last held Nathan a little over 14 weeks ago.  We buried him 13 weeks ago. 


I became a different person a little over 14 weeks ago.  13 weeks ago, I again changed forever. 


Add on top of the grief of losing a child, you also have the grief that you feel when you're going through infertility.  Some days when the grief shows itself, you don't feel like fighting for your next breath.  It'd be easier to give up.  There's only so much grief one can handle throughout their days.


I've become an expert in continuing on with my day with no trace of tears and a smile on my face.  It's what other people expect, so it's what you do.


You forever are on edge, waiting for the next time grief will make its appearance.