Every Breath I Take

It hurts so much this week. I have felt as though I cannot breathe completely all this week. I feel wrapped up, overwhelmed, surrounded, suffocated.

Our counselor gave me a grief cd to listen to. The songs on it wrench my heart, even as they heal it. But the terrible thing is, I'm torn between my grief over losing Henry (whose "real" due date comes up June 23rd) and thinking so much about my grandpa as I listen to the cd. Do you want to know something terrible in my mind? On January 26th, 2005, we buried my grandpa. On January 27, 2006, we found out that Henry was incompatible with life. A year and a day.

Do you know what I keep thinking? Dammit! "I was supposed to find out good news that week, good news that would offset the memories of grandpa dying and his funeral." Instead, I find out that my BABY is INCOMPATIBLE WITH LIFE! Why? Can someone answer me that? Please? Why?

Every breath hurts this week. Every single one. WIth every breath, I want to scream. With every breath, I want to hit something. With every breath, I feel helpless. And so I hug the Hethan a lot. And I push others away.

I told a friend that I felt distant today. This friend told me, like any good friend should, to eat ice cream. :) Yes, well. I did this evening. And I'm still crying now. Why?

Isn't it supposed to get better, as time passes? And yes, I am functioning a heck of a lot better. But I think, a lot of the time, that it's an act. My brain is just de sensitized to the reality these days. My heart still feels raw a lot of the time. So tell me, when does it get better? I need a schedule for my grief. I need a schedule for healing.

I need a schedule for breathing. I want to do it when it doesn't hurt so much.