5 Stages

I am too hard on myself.
I am my own worst enemy.
I tell myself, "This stuff is in the past, move on!"
But, I'm not ready yet.

Yesterday was one month since I found out I lost my baby. The day after tomorrow will be one month since the world lost Kat.

And, yes, I am still sad.

In my Human Lifespan class, we talked about the 5 stages of grieving. They are:

Denial.

          Anger.

                    Bargaining.

                              Depression

                                        Acceptance.

It generally works in that order, and yes, you have to go through all 5 stages. You may skip something, but you will come back to it later. You can go back and forth. You can go up and down. Each stage is unique, each stage brings its own unique pain.

Denial. I was in denial at first. I knew something was wrong, something had to be wrong. Kat isn't dead, it's just a joke. I kept refreshing her Facebook page, hoping someone would say it was a joke. The thought, "That's a sick joke" didn't cross my mind. She should be fine. She is fine. She was fine yesterday, she will be fine tomorrow. People don't die at 22. People like Kat don't die. My baby is fine, the doctors are wrong, just wait. Just wait, and they will see the baby isn't gone.

Anger. I was angry at myself. At my body. I am a woman, my body was designed specifically to conceive, carry, and give birth to a child. And it failed. I failed. I was mad at Kat. Why did she leave us here? Didn't she understand that we all NEEDED her? I was mad at myself. Why didn't I talk to her more? Why didn't I spend more time with her. Why didn't I realize that this was all the time I was going to have with her? I was angry at God. He took my baby away. He let's women who smoke and drink and do drugs during their pregnancies have healthy, happy babies and not me. Didn't he see that I have a home, a job, a car? That I could take care of that baby? Didn't he understand that I NEEDED it? That the moment I saw those two pink lines, I became a mother?

Bargaining. Please, God. I'm sorry. I'm sorry I was mad. I'm sorry I didn't pray more, or read my scriptures more, or go to church more. I promise, that if you let me keep this baby, I will be so GOOD! I will pray, and I will humble myself. I will preach your word. I will do anything. Just let me keep my baby! Let me have them, and carry them, and hold them. I love them, don't you see? Eric, I'm sorry for losing your child. God, don't you see I'm desperate? Please, take the hurt away. Just for a minute, God, take the hurt away, and I will do anything, ANYTHING, just for a minute of peace?

Depression. Crying. Crying when I see a pregnant woman, a newborn. Sitting in bed, staring at the ceiling, willing myself to just get up, but I can't move. I don't want to move. I don't care that I have homework, and chores, and a job. It takes every ounce of energy I have to drag myself through each minute of the day. I'm here at work, but I'm not. I'm on autopilot. I'm hungry, but I have no energy to cook, no energy to get out of bed. I just want to stay a minute and cry. It hurts. My body physically hurts. Contractions, and the giant new hole in my heart. I feel like I have been punched repeatedly in the gut. My eyes are itchy and sore from crying, my lips are raw from blowing my nose. I just hurt.

Acceptance...




Soon. Not yet. I'm not ready yet, I'm not there yet. I'm still sad, and I'm still hurting. I try to push, push, PUSH myself to move on, to be regular old me again. But, it's going to take more time.

It's going to take more time.