My life has become a void. An endless succession of hollow days, going through the motions, accomplishing nothing for months on end. I stare at an rectangular electronic device from the moment I wake to the moment I close my eyes, lulling my mind into a stupor to mask the emptiness and pain. Hours, days, months…it’s all the same. I think the seasons have changed. I feel like a building that’s been condemned, dark, empty of life, pathetic. The only true proof I have of the passing of time is my ever-growing belly. Pregnancy is supposed to be a time of happiness and excitement, two people feeling the movements of their unseen child, discussing who he might become with eyes full of joy. Sometimes I’m successful at being excited and happy, but he seems disinterested. I long to hold my child in my arms again more than anything in the world, even though this child will never replace the one I’ve lost. I’m trying my best to prepare for his arrival, in both the traditional way and mentally. Will I love him like I did Daxon? Will he share my eyes, or will they be blue like Dax’s, or maybe both blue and green like his father’s? Will he sometimes make the same expressions as Dax, sending a thousand needles through my heart? Will he live? This…this is what plagues my mind. I am where babies go to die, it seems. I want him so badly. I need him to survive. But I feel like a deep, dark part of me knows that he won’t, and then I won’t either. I can’t have three babies in Heaven before me. I can’t. When will this day ever end?
I don’t understand how some people simply choose not to see their children as much as they possibly can. There are people who could not care less if they even had kids, and those children suffer terrible lives of being unwanted and unloved. I finally realized tonight why it bothers me so much that my boyfriend isn’t actively trying to get even shared custody of his daughter. He only sees her in the morning when he drives her to daycare, and every second Sunday. Not even overnight. Yet he won’t even talk to a lawyer to find out what the process is to have hr more because the guy is expensive and he thinks it’ll be a huge, expensive battle. I would give anything for that battle to even be an option for me to see my son again. I would give my life if I knew I could hold my son again. So tonight, I realized that this is why I’m so bothered by his procrastination with this. He still has a child that he can hold and teach and love. And he is missing out on so much with her. What isn’t worth that time spent with her? I know he loves her more than anything, so it confuses me why he hasn’t even tried yet. I feel like my grief and mourning is being minimized in a way, I guess. Like he’s taking her existence for granted because his child isn’t going to die and he has all the time in the world to leisurely find a way to see her more. It’s almost a slap in the face. I can never tell him this. He gets angry when I mention fighting for shared custody. I don’t understand why and I’m afraid to ask, as I know it’ll likely end up becoming an argument.
I will never understand a parent’s ability to dismiss time with their children. I just hope they never have to regret it the way I wish I’d spent more time playing and snuggling with my son before he died.