Today marks one month since I lost my daughter. I really tried to push it out of my mind today. I let myself get upset a couple of times yesterday and didn’t want to break down at work.
Yesterday we went to Lowe’s to buy plants for our summer vegetable garden. While walking around the garden center, I walk around a corner to find a display of willow trees. I want one but I know that if I plant one here, I’ll never want to move away from it. I fingered the leaves and teared up. It was all that I could do not to cry. I bit down hard on my knuckle to keep the tears from falling. My husband looks at me with what I interpret as utter disgust on his face. I don’t understand why he seems so fine with the fact that our daughter is dead. I don’t think she was “real” to him like she was to me. I carried her, I felt her, I talked to her and sang to her. She was real to me.
Today I get to work and right off the bat a kid comes up to me and comments on how well I’m doing with keeping the pregnancy weight down. ”I mean, you don’t even look pregnant anymore.” OW. Pain. Shock. OW!
I just walked away. I heard another kid fuss at her that I had lost the baby and she shouldn’t talk about it.
I tried to stay busy after that. The first part of the day went by fast. Later in the day, it crept back into my mind. I doodled tattoo ideas on my legal pad. I’ve been toying with the idea of getting one but I’m such a wimp when it comes to pain. Then I think of the pain that my daughter felt when she was dying and I didn’t realize it and think that I’m such a fucking hypocrite.
W for Willow tat idea
