One week

I realized last night that Levi would have been one week old yesterday. It's been one week since I heard the awful words "no heartbeat." It's been one week since I first held the lifeless form of my son's body. I've cried everyday for one week. I've been living in a nightmare for one week, hoping to wake up. My heart has been shattered for one week. I've felt some of the worst pain for one week. I've felt like a part of me is missing for one week.

One week has come and gone, and it hasn't gotten any easier. I still cry myself to sleep while drugged on ambien. Without it, I lay awake staring at the ceiling for hours. At times, I still wake in the middle of the night and move to the couch clutching a box of kleenex and Levi's quilt so as not to wake my husband with my sobs. I fall apart sobbing at the drop of a hat. I have to force myself to eat. Nothing sounds appetizing anymore. It's difficult to find joy. And I want to so badly. I want to be a good mother to Aidan again. It's just so hard. How do you be a mother when you are grieving so badly for the loss of a child? Aidan and Daddy spend a lot of time together these days, but Monday, Josh goes back to work and it's Aidan and Mommy again. I'm going to have to pull myself together somehow.

Physically, I still feel pretty lousy. My incision is still tender, I have sharp pains through my abdomen at times, my back kills me, my breasts ache with the need to nurse. It's hard to walk long distances. Technically, I still have another week of recovery time, but I think it's going to take longer than that. My body doesn't seem to be healing very quickly this time around.

I've survived one week, and I'm not sure how.