I don’t know why this little spot has become so hard for me to write in lately. I sit and stare at this screen, thoughts racing of, “You’ve already said/written that. No one wants to hear it again. Move on. It’s been a year.” I am only able to write one day of the hospital story because the others are still overwhelming to process.
One week from today is the day my water broke with the twins. The day my life changed forever, and yet there was still more of that to come.
I saw my therapist this past Friday and as we chatted about how I was doing and our little boy (now 22 weeks!), I struggled with this feeling that seems to underly all my emotions lately.
“I’m so tired of grieving.”
Instantly the guilt poured down on me. I explained (although she knew) that it wasn’t that I was tired of my sons or their story, but I was tired of the rest. The constant struggle to get past these thoughts and memories that still bring a lot of heartache. I wish somehow the grief process could be sped up – and I’ve wished that since I lost them. Like you just wake up one day and can think about what you lost without it smacking you in the face or causing you to have to re-process it all again.
There are days like that. More and more. It’s just soooooo slow and in the meantime there is a part of me that would like for this to be over.