Last night was bad. Last night I cried myself to sleep. I am so tired of going to bed only to lay there and fight the anger and sadness from the day. I'm sick of fighting this living nightmare. I prayed so often that God would never take any of my children before me. My love for them so hard and fierce and deep and wide that I truly thought I would need to put into a mental hospital were I ever to lay one beneath the sod. And now my grief is just as hard and fierce and deep and wide.
Last night I longed for someone to hold me. I almost called several people, but the only person I really wanted to be there was Nolan. And he's never home to calm my fears at night because of his job. A man told him 2 years ago that he needed to get a different job, a daytime job, "Because", he said, "Working nights will destroy your family. It destroyed mine." We work so hard to keep our marriage together. Every couple does, but our particular struggles have a lot to do with his schedule. I am finding that I need him more and more at night, yet find myself alone.
Last night was a night when my arms ached with emptiness and my breasts burned with uselessness. Those things that were so tiring and tedious with Vera (nighttime nursing/walking the floor with a grumpy baby/sleeplessness ect) now seem like a privilege. Gone now is the feeling that I will wake from this nightmare. I lived in a state of shock for about 3 months where at times I honestly thought I would wake up, and it would all be a bad dream. I don't live there now. I know Asher is never coming back. Never. Never. Never. I am just so tired of fighting the sadness. I'm sick of putting on a happy face everyday when all I want to do is get in bed and never get out again. I'm tired of this reality. I'm angry that I even have to fight this fight. I get irrationally angry when a polite stranger says, "How are you?" I want to scream back "I'M GREAT! I'M F-ING GREAT! MY SON IS DEAD. HE DIED INSIDE ME - BUT I'M GREAT!!!!!" But thats not a very Christian thing to do. So of course I never do. I spend my days extending grace to everyone around me when all I want to do is cuss and scream and act like a fool. Maybe I do need to be in a mental hospital.
Vera walks around the stores some days singing "My bay-bee dieee!!!! My bay-bee dieeee!!!!!" Passersby stare at us as if we are the Adams family. Some times I sing quietly along.