She Would Be Four

She would be four today.

I’ve been gone from Still Standing Magazine a long while.  I’ve been gone from the entire communities in both the loss and infertility aspects.  I don’t feel I have a place here anymore. There is no more trying to have a child anymore for me. My losses, my children, will always be my children.  Every milestone, birthday, Mother’s Day, Christmas, and anniversary are the same.  I still grieve; I still mourn.  There’s nothing more or new to share.  So I withdrew. 

My life has completely changed since my last writing, though.


Today would be Cthaeh’s 4th birthday.  Her birthday hurts a little more since it’s always so close to Mother’s Day.  I ordered a cake for her to be ready on Tuesday and we will eat it and I will do my very best not to cry in front of anyone but today, I make no promises.
I divorced, moved across state lines, even further from all my friends and family.  I have a completely new life that maybe I’ll share, but not right now.  I can tell you though, I am happy.  So gloriously happy.  Yet still broken.  Still sad.  I still cry. A lot.  I may even cry more now than before.  Maybe because I wish they were here to share in this happy with me.  Before, there was always the thought in my head of, “I’m thankful I’m not having to worry about them as I go through this,” but now I miss them even more.

I miss her everyday, just as I do all three of them.  I always will.  I will always look at the family photos on the wall and see the empty space where they would be.  I will always wonder who they would be.  None of that will ever change.

I brought a metal tree wall hanging thing home this weekend because when I saw it I had to have it.  I showed my boyfriend and he just kind of rolled his eyes and told me it was nice.  I wanted to yell at him for being so not enthused about it when I actually bought it because it reminded me of Cthaeh.  Trees are my symbol for her but he doesn’t know that because he is still learning about me, my grief, my children, and the nuances that go with it all.  The bracelet I wear has a tree on it.  Any whimsical, pretty, even sometimes depressing looking tree remind me of her.  For Y’vaine it’s stars. For Angel it’s elephants.  


Even four years later, I still get angry.  It’s still hard to look at babies and pregnant women or hear of people getting pregnant.  The sadness is still overwhelming at times.  There are days I want to give up.  I still reconcile the fact that my chances of having a child call me “Mom” are gone.  The absolute devastation of that fact hurts in a very real and physical way and I don’t ever see that going away and it’s something I struggle with every.single.day.I almost titled this, “She should be four” but if there is one thing I have learned is there are no ‘shoulds’ in life.  There is no promise that things should or should not happen to or for you.  Life is not and will not ever be fair.  Sometimes life is just down-right cruel.

Luckily I like to think that the good days outweigh the bad.  The sadness isn’t pitch black anymore.  On the days I want to give up, my boyfriend won’t let me. 

And now, I have to settle for being called, “My Mandy”(or actually most the time it’s My Manny)instead of Mommy.

I continue to get through it.  Never over it.

Today, she would be four and will always be my baby girl.





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    Mandy

    Mandy

    I have lived with infertility since 2007 and hope to give women with infertility a voice. I live in South Dakota with my pitbull, Bella and 2 cats. You can follow me on my blog.

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