Lilypie Angel and Memorial tickers

Lilypie - Personal pictureLilypie Angel and Memorial tickers

Tuesday, November 9, 2010

Streaks

Purple. Orange. Pink.  The sky is streaked with beauty on this cool, crisp morning.  My cheeks are streaked with tears.  My insides are a pressure cooker.  The pain builds and churns and presses until it leaks from my eyes.  I feel as if this thing inside me will explode.  I cannot bear it.  Wails begin to escape from my lips, and I can no longer act civilized.  I cannot contain the thoughts pounding through my mind.  They pour in a rushing a torrent from my lips.  I do not care that people can hear.

"I miss my baby!  I've never been apart from her for 4 long weeks before.  How can I live without her?  I do not want to learn.  I do not want to put time between the intersection of her life and mine.  I do not want to be ok.  I do not want to forget.  I do not want to do this!!  How can this be my life?  How can it have gone so wrong?  It was not supposed to be this way.   I can hear her sweet voice in the bathtub asking, "What color will you paint me today, Mommy?"  I will never get to "paint" her with soap again... to imagine with her.  I cannot do 'This Little Piggy Went to Market' while I clean her little toes ever again."

I pound the bed and pull my hair.  Agony.  Breathing fast now.  The wails will not stop.  I sit up to calm down, but my arms hang limp and empty.  No one for them to hold.  Another wave hits, and in my heart I feel like the living dead.  I am sorry for my babies.  They can hear now.  Instead of songs and laughter I am afraid the only sound they will know is sobbing.  Worse.  They will not know their sister.

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