Somewhere Between 1 & 43 Minutes... Please?

Our friend Phil Yoder wrote a song for us and Kyla brought it to us the night before Rachel's birthday.  We listened to it with her and I cried.  This morning, Matt was out at Walmart with the kids and I was feeling ok.  I had done some good cleaning in the kitchen and felt good that I was cleaning my own house for once, since my mom has been taking care of us so often, and in between her doing my housework, I haven't accomplished much.  I organized a cabinet, got some clutter picked up and you could almost see all the counter tops again, when I came across the CD with Phil's song on it.  *To listen, you'll have to pause the music player at the bottom of the blog first*

I put it in and started listening...  and that was it.  I lost it.  I litterally colapsed onto the kitchen floor and sobbed for 30 mins straight.  My heart broke with each thought of sadness and with each thought of disappointment, I hit the floor and kicked my feet as if my pain was coming out of all my limbs.  I remember reading in the "I will carry you" book about her having bouts of anger and thinking that I would never feel that way...  I was wrong again.  I feel that way.  It was as if, as soon as my kids were all gone, I was able to grieve outwardly - and did I ever.

I love her so much.  I feel like my heart could explode.  I want to hold her... I want her to stay.  I have her hat that she wore when she was born sitting on my desk in front of me.  I can smell her.  I hope her scent never leaves it, but I doubt that is possible.  Memories will fade as the days go by...scents will fade, my visual memory will fade... but I'm not so sure my pain will fade. 

I find myself having moments throughout my day where I am painfully aware that this trial is not over...  I keep begging for someone to tell me it's not real.  I want to hear that this was all a bad dream and Rachel will be ours to keep - that I can snuggle with her tonight, instead of her empty blanket.  When I crawled into bed last night, I pulled her blanket close and smelled it and said to Matt "all I have left is this blanket..."  and I drifted off for another night of pill induced, broken hearted sleep begging God to help me.

My mom watched the kids today so Matt & I could go to my follow up appt to check my incision.  It was good to see Dr. Hunt again.  But it was really sad making the Portland trip without Rachel.  That was a first and I cried 1/2 the trip.  I used to feel her kick the whole way up and back. Grinning over her personality the whole way... she brought me so much joy, so many smiles.  Today, just as I said to Matt "this is our 1st trip without Rachel", I looked up and we were passing a salon (I'm a hairdresser) called "Rachel's Salon" - I think I might just go get a trim... Made me smile, as small of a thing as that was.  Maybe just enough of a reminder for me to realize that she is always with us.  She holds a piece of our hearts that will never belong to anyone else.  She is irreplaceable.

They had me fill out a paper that asks questions to see where you are at as far as postpartum depression.  One of the questions asks about if you feel like a failure to your family...  My mind instantly went back to the first moment I held Rachel and what I said to her...  I held her close and said "I'm so sorry pretty girl, I tried my hardest."  I felt like I had failed her.  But no matter what I did, how hard I tried, how well I planned, or how much I wanted it to be different, she was going to die in my arms.  I know this in my head.   My heart still wants an explanation.

Matt is really good about reminding me and telling others about how proud he is of the way I mothered Rachel.  It is so good for my heart to hear.  He told Amy tonight that nobody could have mothered her the way I did... that I lived it to the fullest with her - that I didn't fail her.  And yet, I can somehow still convince myself that there's something I should have done differently.  I try to off-set it with things like "God knew what I could handle and He planned it out accordingly"  it feels better for a second, and then the sting in my heart returns.

After we left Maine, we drove to Dover to visit our girl.  It will be nice when spring gets here - and when we can have her stone put in. And when it's not dark at 4:30.  We had to turn the headlights towards her grave.  I read her those Psalms from my post last night.  I like to tell her where I'm getting my comfort.  What kind of Mom would I be if I didn't share the bible with her? :o)  As if she's not fully aware, being with Jesus and all... :o)  So, I guess it's really for me.  But let's face it, moms, we all do things that are more for us than our kids... admit it!  I tell my kids that someday they will love the fact that they have 1000 pictures of themselves :o)  and they will... so will I :o)  Anyway, glad I'm finding some humor in the middle of my mess cause this has been a hard day.   

Please continue to pray for us and to pass us along to prayer chains.  Our journey is at a different place, but the hard part has only begun recently. 1 week ago since we buried her and tomorrow is 2 weeks since her birthday.   Matt will be going back to work next week and that is going to be a difficult transition for us.  And physically difficult since I'm not supposed to lift Samuel yet. The days have dragged and yet the time has flown by.  I wish I could reverse time and stop it right where it was...somewhere between 1-43 mins. and held it there... forever.