The past few weeks

Life has been normal for everyone, everyone but me.

Most are unaware of the unstopping tears that flow as I drive to work alone, past the vast cemeteries in our surrounding areas.  They are unavoidable.  My eyes scan the headstones, looking for something all too familiar, infant headstones.  I don't always see them, but I know they are there.  I imagine the poor women like myself mourning their lost babies.  I imagine their families sad faces.  I can almost hear their cries.  I think why didn't I sob at the cemetery? Why didn't I just throw myself right down beside Lainey and sob?  I wanted too, I needed too.  I wanted everyone to witness the indescribable pain.  Unless you have been through the same thing, no one can totally understand it. Why didn't I do it?  Sometimes a small blue tent will be standing among graves, telling of someone's recent loss.  My heart hurts, the tears flow, people are suffering.

Mother's Day is approaching, too many people are talking about it.  On Facebook there are posts everywhere about the "bereaved" mother, loosing a child too soon.  A constant reminder that I am such a mother.  A reminder that my children are not with me.  My mind drifts to the infants buried and then the pregnancy loss at 8 weeks and 12 & 1/2.  Do those babies count too?  Do I have 4 babies waiting for me?  Four in Heaven and four on earth?

I keep my tender emotions hidden, most do not see them.  I fall into bed nearly every night with a weighted heart held tight to my chest.  Lainey's exact weight, laying on me, just as she did in the hospital. Her still little body, against mine.  What I wouldn't give to have that moment back.

The silent tears flow, the grief remains, this life is hard, but I'm still living it.