A Day in the Life of a Bereaved Mother

Today is just another day, not much different than yesterday or the day before. Nothing spectacular, nothing exciting, nothing to remember. Some may wonder what the typical day is like to a mother after experiencing the loss of her child. Let me say, it is so much better to wonder than to have to experience it first hand.

My typical day:

-Waking up in the morning in a completely silent and still house, but not thinking twice about it. This is my new normal. No longer do I wake up to my baby girl's voice, babbling away, filling the house with so much life. Right after her death, mornings were the absolute worst. Now, I am used to the worst.
-Opening my bedroom door to the world, the dredded first step into the rest of the house. Fighting off the urge to peer through this lifeless house to her bedroom, but often blinded by the light beeming through the cracks of her door. Don't look! Just do what you need to do and go back to your room!
-Feeling guilt for feeding myself in the morning. Feeling guilt for deliberately trying to steer away from her pictures, knowing the incredible pain they bring. Feeling guilty for laughing at something on the television or watching something that I know is meaningless. Feeling guilty for shopping on Ebay for baby stuff for Avalyn. Feeling guilty because today I feel like writing in Avalyn's journal, but not Briana's.
-Laying in my bed all day, avoiding contact with all lifeforms, clouding my mind with the pointless jibber jabber of the television.
-Occasionally drifting off and reliving the worst day of my life, induced by a simple thought, a quick glance at a picture, or something sad on tv. Thinking, remembering, screaming, crying, aching heart, fierce tears...I beat myself up for a while, but my mind, in all of its diligence, always finds a way to veer off to some other land. Then I am fine...for the moment.
-Calling my husband in emotional distress, but not wanting to let him know of it. Still wishing he will somehow lift me up and bring me some hope. He asks me how things are going...yea, I'm OK...when really I am screaming from the bottom of this pit I am in, begging for him to pull me out. But I just can't let him know...if he knows, then I just pull him into this put of mine.
-Waiting patiently for husband to get home....the only brightness in my day. Hug me, hold me, just love me....you have no idea how much I need you. Drag me out of this house, how I really need to see the sun, the grass, the blue sky.
-Escaping this prison, venturing off into public....absolute torture. The memories, the happy families, the smiling babies, the sappy songs, the questions, the what if's and should have been's. Hopefully I don't see anyone I know....hopefully nobody asks me where my baby is. Yes, I have other children, but please don't ask me any more questions. Please don't take notice of me, just let me fade on into the background. I am too ashamed to be noticed. Hunny, you run in, I'll stay in the car this time....please.
-Driving, looking into my rearview mirror, catching a glimpse of the backseat. No carseat, no little mirror up on the headrest reflecting the image of my beautiful sleeping baby...nothing, but an empty backseat. Brutal reminders.
-Fearing for the future. What if something happens again? Worrying about Avalyn...nothing better happen to her, ever. I cannot survive another tragedy...I am too weak. I am already broken. Lord, have mercy on me.
-Forcing myself to cook, even if it's just a day out of the week. Forcing myself to make my husband lunch for his exhausting day at work. Forcing myself to let him know that I do care about him...I do love him. I am just depressed right now, I wish I could do more for you. I hope you understand.
-Laying down to sleep, battling the thoughts that ping pong through my head. Scanning the hundreds of images permanently engraved in my memory...holding Briana for the first time, her first bath, her many smiles...images of her in her swing, in her bumbo seat, in daddy's arms, in her gentle sleep. I see her in all of her beauty, but still can't smile. I wish I could smile, but I just hurt.
-Waking in the middle of the night amidst the most awful nightmares. Nothing can compare to the day she left us, but sometimes nightmares come close. They seem so real. Why can't I get a break? Just some peaceful sleep? Do I really have to relive her death even in my sleep? Rolling over to my husband, asking him to hold me....please, just rescue me from this horror....this terrible dream. Please, just talk to me until I fall back asleep. Tell me that everything is ok, that things will be alright. Please.