12 weeks

12.11.13

      Wednesday. Wednesday. 12 weeks. 84 days. 2016 hours. 120,960 minutes since I had held my daughter. It hit me far worse than I could have ever anticipated. 12 weeks. It amazed me how it seemed like an instant and an eternity all at the same time.
       I was just barely suppose to be coming back to work. I was suppose to have a newborn and be adjusting to the idea of having to leave her at daycare, not having to leave her in God's arms. I should have been dealing with the annoyance of breast pumping in order to feed her, but instead I had nothing to show for my 9 months of getting fat, pimply, and swollen. I was empty. My stomach had returned almost completely to my pre-pregnancy softness, and all I had was the pink smile below my belly button where she was taken out of me.
       It is such an incredibly weird feeling to want to stay in a moment and be away from it at the same time. I wanted so badly to reverse time and go back to those few precious hours that I was able to hold my daughter. I wanted to go back and watch Alex dress her again. I wanted to feel the weight of her in my arms, twirl her hair around my fingers.
       Today was the first day that I couldn't really stop the images from returning. I kept reliving that morning in my mind, seeing the images of her still heart on the sonogram screen. Dr. L's eyes welling up with tears as she told me my daughter wasn't there anymore. The sound of my dad's crying, my mom thinking that Alex had been playing a sick joke on her. The absolute panic of my Mom's face coming into the little curtained room at the hospital.
       I couldn't make them stop. I spiraled down into a pit of absolute depression. I missed my daughter with every ounce of my being. I wanted to talk to her. I wanted to soothe her when she was cranky.
   
     At the same time of feeling all of these longings for my daughter, I also wanted time to hurry up. I want to have a child with my amazing husband. I am ready to be a Mom (a real Mom, not a heaven Mom). I want to have a child with the quiet strength of my husband and maybe his quirky humor, too. I am so ready for the moment of joy that will come when our next baby comes into this world and we are finally a family of three (or four... God might give us twins). But I have to wait. I have to let my body heal so that I give everything that I can to our next child. I waited for three months after being off birth control to try to have Kaitlyn because I wanted to know that I did everything I could to bring a healthy baby into this world.
      And I did. I did absolutely everything that was in my control to bring her into the world successfully. In the beginning, I longed for a reason. I wanted to be able to look back and say, "Oh, I ate sushi, or lunch meat, or drank a 6 pack of beer..." and would know that next time I could fix it. I wanted to have something to change to ensure that this wouldn't happen to me again.
      When I initially told Kate that, she said, "Yes, but that also leaves a big space for blame. If you had that reason, you would look to blame yourself for what happened to Kaitlyn. Be thankful that that's not your story." Fair enough, but it's still not easy.

     I am struggling every day with this dualing emotion. I miss my daughter more than words can ever express, and no one will ever be able to replace her. But at the same time, I long to be a mom. Wanting time to stop and hurry up all at the same time.
    If you haven't figured this out yet, I am a bit of a control freak. I want to help/fix/control every situation and everybody's problems. I am having to give up control of every situation to God. You would think that Kaitlyn's birth would have taught me that, but I am still struggling against it. I would much rather focus on your problems and issues than deal with my own.  But that's why I started writing. It forces me to focus on myself and my own healing, and at the same time there is absolutely nothing I can do about it but wait and claim God's promises on my life. I would love to say that it has been a cakewalk, but obviously I still struggle.
    All I know is this: God works everything for good. Kaitlyn's short life here on earth was not without purpose. Even this pain that I experience every day is not without purpose. Eventually, I will be able to see it. But for now, I have to be okay with being in this waiting period. My own personal advent season.