Not because I'm a new mom. Not because I'm worried that she won't be cared for. Not because I feel I have to nurse instead of having bottles ready. Because I don't know what I have to talk about that doesn't involve her. I'm a completely empty shell.
She saved me. She saved me from all of the overwhelming thoughts that are always there.
If I'm not talking about her or about being a new parent, I'm thinking that its complete bullshit that Liz died from trying to have a baby. It's the only way I can reconcile that I lived and she didn't- by being a different person that at this point I don't even really like that much.
By being a different person than the one I really am- who is so much like Liz it's scary. I avoid Dr. Pepper and olives. I got mad at Toddlers & Tiaras but had nobody to talk about it with. I can't imagine going on an adventure/vacation. Every second of every day is completely consumed with this hurt, and the only thing that makes it decent, that keeps me moving, is when Abby smiles at me.
I don't have the sense that I'm particularly good at anything, except making Abby gain weight. I don't have anything interesting to talk about, I don't see my old friends, and every day I psych myself up to be the best housewife I can be. My eyes are so sunken in and dark, I don't look normal without makeup.
The only reason I know for sure I'm good at making her gain weight is her 2-month checkup. She's now 12.2 lbs and 23 inches long, in the 75th percentile for both. Out of 100 kids, only 25 would be bigger or longer than her at this point!
We also had her first round of shots done. I didn't watch, and she calmed down soon after. She started feeling bad a few hours later but I'd already planned to just hang out and comfort her. Here she is looking very sick, I'm pretty sure she had a fever and would cry in pain when she woke up:
Later that night, I was so glad to get a smile:
She's as good as new now and she's really so much bigger and more wiggly.
It's a catch 22- I want to be around her and laugh and play but I also wish I didn't feel so alone every minute.
Because I shouldn't be doing this alone. I should be on the phone with my best bud anytime I want. She should be home with her boy, trying to figure out what to do with her days too. She should have been at le peep last week, not her husband. Our kids should have been there too.
We are about to move out of this house. Because we always planned to, and because I can't stand the thought that right behind me, where I sit every day to nurse my baby, is the spot I stood when Bean had to tell me she and Evan died. Maybe if we don't live here, I can pretend it didn't happen.
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