Every night I stay up as late as I can, until my eyes are so tired they barely stay open. Sam’s already asleep. I’m on my phone, or reading, and I just find something to do until I have to go to bed.
It’s been this way for months now. If I lay in bed long, thoughts of Kaden overwhelm me. I’ll start to cry, my nose plugs up, my eyes and face hurt. It’s awful and I hate it, so I’d rather just fall asleep right away.
When I lost the twins, my OB gave me Ambien or something to allow me to fall asleep – because the flashbacks were brutal. I took them for about a week and stopped. I’ve never been good with meds, they really affect me.
Other than my mind meds. Those work.
This time around I didn’t want anything like Ambien. I didn’t add or change anything at all. But it’s been hard. There are times I wish there was something that would just knock me out from 8-8 without any drowsy side effects.
When Bella crawls into snuggle in the morning, it helps with my anxiety or sadness. There are nights I’ll wake up at 2am with a stomach ache from worrying about something incredibly stupid. I know it’s stupid. I know in the morning I’ll wonder why on earth I even thought about it. But in that moment, it’s the most important thing in the world.
There are nights I wonder if it’ll always be like this. These moments of complete takeover – where I can’t seem to control anything I worry or think about. Kaden replays in my head. It’s like he wasn’t even real at times. He was just another blip on the loss screen, another baby to try to heal from. I miss him so much. You can’t even know how much I wanted him to come home. I’m sitting here crying and I just – gah. 10 months and it’s still so insane to me. So unfair. So stupid. I can’t get past the fact that I did EVERYTHING I was supposed to and he DIED. He died. He stopped breathing and turned cold and blue and I had to hand him to a nurse I didn’t even know and walk away.
Now he’s on a shelf.
How do I even make sense of that enough to start to come to terms with it? It doesn’t even feel like it happened. All those days in the hospital, sitting by his little warmer. So surreal. I hate that those days were his whole life. Hate it. I have everything in a bin – most of it unwrapped with the tags on. I was so afraid during his pregnancy to set everything up and you know what? I was right. I knew. And now all my “I was right” sits in a box while I think about all the milestones he’d be hitting right now.
I hate this. There are some nights when what really happened, how brutal this all was, hits me and I can’t even comprehend it.