I’ve dreaded writing lately. Yet another problem with a public blog; everyone can read it — this includes family members, friends, people who’ve hurt you, people you’re angry with, people you’ll hurt if you write exactly how you feel. I truly have always been a peacekeeper (certain people will disagree, but I think it’s true). Sometimes I voice my opinion about things that upset me or things I don’t agree with, but 99% of the time, I eventually give in because, a.) I don’t like hurting people, and b.) I don’t like when people are mad at me. I find myself caring less about both of these things now that Ava’s gone. I’m selfish with my emotions, my time, and the amount of effort I put in to relationships with people — and I don’t care if people don’t like it. I guess that’s what happens when something breaks you at your core. You learn what matters and what doesn’t. You learn who matters and who doesn’t. You stop focusing so much on pleasing other people and start caring about yourself and those who show they love and care about you. SHOW being the key word here. Let me explain what someone showing me they love and care about me is not: it is not liking my posts on facebook, thinking about me or my daughter every now and again, mentioning my name or Ava’s to others occasionally, pretending to make plans and never following through, or simply just never contacting me at all. When someone shows they love and care about you they: call, visit, make plans and keep those plans, talk about Ava, are courteous about things they say or do when a child is involved and someone who has lost a child is around, check in to see if said person is surviving, say “I love you and I’m here for you.” If you don’t show me you love me, my husband and my daughter, I just don’t have time for you anymore. And I’m not sorry about it. I want to have close relationships with other people, and I want to share the love I have, but not with those who don’t return that love. I won’t mention names. You know deep within your heart if you’re someone who has been there, or someone who hasn’t. I’ve come to terms with the fact that having expectations of others almost always results in disappointment — and heaven knows I don’t need any more of that. So show me you love and care about me, or don’t. It’s your decision and I’m okay with it either way.
On to more important things. Today, Ava would have been two months old. Time flies, and it also drags on and on and on. You know what I mean if you’ve ever experienced a major loss. I still don’t know how to feel when the 8th of each month comes around. I feel like I should be happy because it marks the day she was born. But I also know that the 10th of each month is right around the corner. And that day marks the day she died. I hate the 10th of each month. We did our best today. Ryan and I have been planning something special to do for someone in honor of Ava, and we made that happen today. Ryan took Ava roses. We visited her gravesite. We talked about her. I spent part of the day rummaging through boxes of baby blankets until I found 17 perfect blankets to donate to the NICU where Ava spent the majority of her life. I spent part of the day in bed because I couldn’t stop thinking about her and needed a mental break. I took like 3 baths to try to relax. We honored her today the best we knew how, but it never feels like enough. I wish I had pictures of her at two months old to show the world. It’ll never happen. Her monthly birthdays will go by without much notice from the outside world because I don’t have anything physical to show her growth, and that really hurts. I have no idea what we will do on the 10th, but I’m thankful it’s at least a Saturday so that I can be with Ryan. It’s always a little bit easier when I’m with him. This Saturday also would have been our baby shower for Ava. Instead of celebrating her upcoming birth with family and friends, we’ll be mourning two months since she died. If I’m sounding super negative today, it’s because I am. I am so tired of living with losing her. I can’t even explain how tired of it I am. I’m tired of the entire world having babies, knowing I’ll never have her back. I’m tired of missing her, crying for her, clenching her blanket tightly just to feel close to her. I’m tired of feeling like a 5-year old little girl — needing my teddy bear and her blankey before I can go to sleep. How the hell do people live this way forever? Knowing I have decades ahead of me without her scares the living crap out of me. I don’t want to do it. And yet I know I have to. People say “going on” is a choice, but I really don’t see it that way. I wish it were a choice, because I’d choose to be in heaven with her today. But, all I’m left with is someday.. And until then, I’ll keep “trying to go on.” So, here’s to one more day of surviving without you, my sweet girl. Happy two months since your birth.