There are good days and bad days in the days following the death of your baby.
The good days are the days when you can talk about your baby and share her story and talk about being a parent without choking up. The good days are the days when your mind focuses on the joy, the magic that was held in those too-short days, the hope you have for the future. The good days are the days when you can think of your life as unwrecked, when you can imagine a day when you’ll feel happy.
The bad days are the days that you can’t do that. You can’t switch the mindset to positives, or focus on the joy you felt when you looked at your beautiful baby, or imagine a day when life will be full again. The bad days are days when you stare blankly, and you can’t think of anything that would be fun ever again. The bad days are the days when you cry, when you focus on what-ifs, when you are struck hard with the reality: This is your life. Your baby didn’t live to come home.
It sucks to have good days interspersed with bad days. It would be nice to have a gradual progression to normalcy, to feel like progress is being made. That’s not how it works with grief.
What I’m finding is that when I’m having a bad day, so is the Hubs and so is the rest of my family. It’s like bringing Hudson into this world and sharing her as a family has bonded us in such a way that our feeling wavelength is connected. It’s good and bad. It’s good because when things are good for me, I am on the same page as the Hubs and we can enjoy life just a little bit more. It’s bad because when things are bad for me, I can’t lift the Hubs out of his bad.
But he’s so wonderful at lifting me out of mine, even when he’s in the depths of his.
Everybody had a bad day today, but somehow it got better when we were able to tell each other it was bad.
Through grieving Hudson, I have to remember to talk to people. I can’t keep her locked inside my broken heart. I have to talk about her, even when what I have to say isn’t always the positive stuff.
I miss her so much. I miss the life we had envisioned with her. I am going to miss her tomorrow and the next day and 5 years from now and 20 years from now. She is my firstborn child, the pride of my heart, the best thing I’ve ever done, the most beautiful human being I can even imagine. The world is a worse place without her in it.
But just because the world isn’t as bright or beautiful without Hudson doesn’t mean that I need to become a less bright or beautiful person. It’s my responsibility to my daughter to live life wholeheartedly, to make the most and the best out of every day I’m blessed with in honor of her.
So when the bad days roll around, that’s what I must remind myself to do: Be my best because of her.
Hudson deserves the best mommy in the world, and I owe it to her future siblings to be just that.