I Hate February 22nd

It isn't even 9 am yet and I am already a major emotional mess today.  I didn't want to get out of bed when that stupid alarm went off at 5 am—I just want to stay in bed all day today and just cry and pretend the real world doesn't exist.  The only thing that got me out of bed was knowing that I had a reeses peanut butter cup hidden in the freezer that I had saved for today because I knew it would be a hard day to get through.  Problem is when I went to get it, it was gone--someone in my family had already eaten it!!!  It is stupid to be angry and sad about a candy bar but I guess that was the only thing holding me together today.  

I hate Feb. 22^nd.  6 years ago on Monday Feb. 22^nd 2010 I woke up having major contractions every 30 minutes.  This lasted for about 5 hours.  I should have called the doctor to find out what was going on, but, when they stopped I figured it was just braxton hicks contractions.  I had a doctors apt. that Friday the 26^th and my Dr. figured that the 22^nd was when Janessa turned from being breech to head down so on the 26^th I celebrated that I wouldn’t have to have a c-section but could have a normal delivery.  Now we think the 22^nd is when Janessa got tangled in her cord and that from here on to March 7^th she was slowly dying.  After the 22^nd is when I noticed a decrease in her activity but didn’t say anything to my doctor.  Today marks the beginning of the end  of Janessa's life.  I know there isn’t anything I could have done to prevent this—I tell myself that over and over and over, but, as a mother that just isn’t acceptable all I see is that I failed to keep her safe.

I hate these last 2 weeks before her angel b-day.  I just can't even function today.  I can't deal with planning my menu for the next 2 weeks—I just stare at the empty days of the first 2 weeks of March that I don't want to happen and I don't want to cook meals on.    I'm struggling seeing the women holding their babies—it is such a reminder of what I didn't get.  I want my alive baby.  I don’t want a lifetime of grief instead and having to endure 2 weeks of torture every Feb/March for the rest of my life.

I wish I had a magic lamp and a magic wish because I would wish for a grieving island where all baby loss mommies could go when they get to the last 2 weeks before their angel babies b-day.  No husbands or other kids allowed.  No chores, no responsibilities, or to do lists just a bunch of women sitting together crying and hugging and talking and listening and understanding because we’re all walking the same path.  You could spend hours just sitting out on the beach staring at the waves.  There would be a freezer full of chocolate that you could get into anytime you wanted and it wouldn’t make you fat.  There would be a room where you could write out your frustrations on a plate and then throw it against the wall to take out all your anger and frustration and you don't have to worry about cleaning it up or people thinking your lacking faith because your angry and frustrated that your baby is dead.  When your angel babies b-day arrived all the women would gather together and write your babies name on  balloons and let them go and light candles and eat cake and you wouldn't feel like a freak for celebrating your angel babies b-day.  Then instead of having to endure 2 weeks of hell before your angel babies b-day you would get 2 weeks of Heaven away from normal stressful life to just remember and cherish your babies memory.

I can't do this again—but I will because I have survived these 2 weeks for the past 5 years and I can survive another year, I just don't want to.  I may have to send myself to time out for most of the day with the covers over my head hugging my Kleenex box but that is okay—maybe tomorrow I will be able to function a little better.