Wishful Thinking

I thought I was coming out of the dark woods. I thought I was coming to terms with Leila's birth and death. I thought I was ready to rejoin the real world. Three weeks later, I thought....

What kind of idiot makes these kinds of assumptions?

I'm not even within bullhorn-shouting distance of okay. Today found me leaning over an extra-large trashcan at work, sobbing my heart out. What triggered that, you ask?

I called the WIC office today. They say you're supposed to call as soon as your baby's born, so they can either adjust your food for nursing, or start supplying you with formula. I apologized, it's been 3 weeks. But I haven't used a coupon since delivering Leila. I wanted to know how I should return the coupons to them. The lady on the other end of the phone was very nice, said how sorry she was to hear about our baby. Nothing remarkable, right? I agree. But I guess I'd been avoiding making that call, maybe because it would be admitting Leila's gone to the world. Facing the reality one more time. And this time, reality had teeth. It chewed itself right into my gut and made me experience all over again how hollow I feel right now. And the crying doesn't have that cleansing quality now, it just burns and stings, leaving me unfulfilled.

I just wish I could die. That some wonderful soul would come along and put me out of my misery. That Jesus would come RIGHT NOW and take me home to see my little girl. I know, I know, that's some selfish thinking, right? What would Yasar and Andrew do? And all the others who count on me blahblahblah. I didn't say I was going to eat a bullet, or have a nap in my car in the garage, or even chow down a couple of these Ambien the OB was so kind to give me.

I just give up. I surrender to the pain. I'll let it hollow me until I'm nothing but a husk. Then I'll pray for God to rebuild me.