It is Misery To Want What You Can Never Have

My weekend didn’t go exactly like I’d planned. I have a recipe post in progress {delicious, can’t wait to share it with you, maybe tomorrow}, as well as this past week’s edition of 10 things to be thankful for. My plan was to post my 10 things yesterday… but it turns out that I wasn’t feeling thankful at all yesterday.

Yesterday’s emotion was depression. Sadness. Grief in overwhelming amounts.

Yesterday was misery.

I think I’m doing fine, managing so well, “better since her birthday passed, thank you for asking”. And then a day like yesterday hits me in the face, and I realize that I’m not over it, not even a little bit, and in fact, I don’t want to be over it, ever.

I want my baby, who should be a toddler now, learning to walk and say “mama” and “dada”.

It is misery to want what you can never have.

I’ve noticed that newborns and little babies don’t make me as sad and anxious as they used to. David and I attended a barbecue with our loss support group last week and there were two little babies there – 2 months and 4 months – chubby and sweet and chewing on their fingers. I didn’t have a meltdown.

It’s the one year old babies babbling sing-song noises in the stores that make me want to collapse into the ground and never get up. I wonder if it will always be this way… if Clara will continue to age in my mind, so that in 10 years, sixth graders will make me feel like crying.

On days like these, I wonder how I could have felt so fine last week. How could there have been several days when I thought of her only in passing? Am I starting to care less? Why do I keep picking at this healing scab? Why can’t I just accept that this is how things are?

This is my life now. Days of better, then days of worse, because my baby died, and she’s never coming back.

And it is misery.

It is misery to want what you can never have. #grief | The Destiny Manifest

12 Replies to “It is Misery To Want What You Can Never Have”

  1. *MASSIVE HUGS* my dear friend. I know a little of how you feel. These things come and go, and fluctuate. They leave you alone for a while then sneak up behind you for no apparent reason and grab you by the throat, trying to drag you under.

    Your plans sound nice, but they can wait.

    Your priority has to be yourself. Embrace this new wave of grief (if you can) – I think it may pass quicker if you don’t fight it, but enter into it and shed your tears, knowing that this too, will pass.

    Time may allow your baby’s tragic death to become less immediately painful – less pole-axingly unmanageable, but time will never, ever, EVER mean you care less.

    So much love to you. I hope things ease up. Come back to the blog when you’re ready – we will all wait until you’re ready. xXx

  2. (((HUGS))) I had an early miscarriage and every year on October 20th I think about the due-date-that-never-happened. I don’t think a loss like that ever truly leaves you.

  3. Here from ICLW: Those days are the worst, they just blindside you when you think you’re doing just a little bit better. I can very much relate. Sending hugs /MMB

  4. I don’t have any words but I want to send you lots of love and light and strength to find more of the easier days.

  5. I can relate very well to what you are saying. I was solely affected by children who were of the same age as my first daughter would have been. It works like that, I think.

    It will take its own time. I am still not over the grief.


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