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I’d like to thank my friend Angie from Still Life With Circles for putting this project out there for us to participate in. Angie is an incredible force in this community and her blog was one I read daily way back when. I don’t read many blogs these days. I write on mine every so often, but it feels different then when I first lost Silas. Back then, it was my lifeline. It was what kept me sane. I devoured blogs, commented daily and made a group of friends who also lost babies around the same time. Our lives have progressed differently since then. Some went on to have subsequent babies pretty quickly, others, like me, took a lot longer, while still others have yet to conceive again. Though our paths were different after our losses, our stories & comments kept each other sane and able to move forward through the early months of heartache, pain and devastation. I will always cherish those beginning friendships and the strong connections we made. These women just got me, they knew what I was feeling and were there for me no matter what.

I sometimes go back and read my early posts, from when I guest wrote on my husband Chris’s blog Elm City Dad. I was raw, angry, sad, depressed. You name an emotion and I felt it. I was honest though about how I felt. I knew people in my life were reading, people who knew and loved me. It didn’t change what and how I wrote, I knew that they actually used our blogs as a tool to help them deal with us. We told it like it was- putting it all out there with real, honest emotion.

I think that because of our blogs, we are still super close to all our friends. It was their way of connecting to us in helping to know what we were going through.  Our friends found it easier to contact us because of it. Having email, text, fb, gchat and blog comments gives us so many outlets to communicate and I appreciated every single one of them. I didn’t need my friends calling me. I didn’t need people to worry about “how I was doing.” My blog shared that, and if you took the time to comment or email or text, I let you know that I was ok.  They knew and understood I couldn’t see their new babies, couldn’t send a gift or call/write to congratulate them. The jealousy, oh the jealousy. This part of me was a huge loss- not being able to see, hear, watch, read about babies. They were everywhere and it was almost impossible to navigate.

Those early days were so incredibly hard. I couldn’t lose the weight, couldn’t get pregnant, didn’t have my son and really couldn’t make sense of this world that came crashing in on me. I am one of those people though that couldn’t hide in my bed all day, every day, even though I thought that was what I wanted. Chris and I went out, saw friends & lots of music. Leaned on our amazing families & friends a lot. I practiced yoga, went to bootcamps & therapy, and continued my work as a children’s yoga teacher. I struggled through it all, but I think that because we continued to live life, through our loss and grief, really brought us to where we are today. We are still devastated by our loss, but we don’t wear our grief on our sleeve. We worked through it, around it, inside and out. I will always miss him, til the day I die – but my heart isn’t aching like it did in that first year. Sometimes I can’t believe I’m still standing, and other times I am proud to be still standing.

I am finally pregnant again, exactly 2 years & 8 months later. It took a really long time for that to happen. I think for me, it made this journey a bit more tumultuous.  My time was spent grieving the loss of my sweet little first born son Silas and then it was spent trying to get pregnant again. After awhile, it turned into just trying to get pregnant again. Silas was there in my heart, but his loss wasn’t my focus anymore. I was determined to get pregnant and after a year of trying on our own, it was time to venture into the land of infertility drugs. I couldn’t believe this was our life. First we lost our child at birth, and then we can’t get pregnant? That just seemed truly fucked up. I mean seriously? We tried every fertility treatment out there, and finally, became pregnant after our 3rd IVF attempt.  I am currently 13w4d and was feeling great until last night. We had a bit of a bleeding scare, but found out I have placenta previa and it’s pretty common. Now I am just told to take it easy which I’m attempting to do.

This pregnancy is fraught with the feeling of it being our last hope to have a child. It finally happened and I wont let anything take it from me.  Last night, right after the toilet was filled with blood, I sobbed with the thought of having to start this process over again. It can’t possibly be happening. But the bleeding stopped, the ultrasound showed a heartbeat and a healthy baby, and I’m now required to chill out. At this point, I will do what I’m told. Chris wants to wrap me in bubble wrap and put me in a closet and not let me out til I’m ready to birth this baby.

Now that I’m finally here though, I am finding a new relationship with Silas and his loss. I still get choked up when I see my friends kids who were born around when he was. I sometimes can’t believe I could be parenting a 2 1/2 year old. That always breaks my heart. I am constantly now required to answer the question “is this your first?” This brings up all kinds of feelings and emotions about whether to share and break someone’s heart? or pretend Silas didn’t exist? It’s a very challenging question to answer, no matter how I choose to answer it. I always hesitate and I still haven’t figured it out it in the moment.

Silas taught me so many lessons. He taught me that everything in life doesn’t always work out & things don’t happen for a reason (sometimes shitty things just happen). He taught me patience. He allowed me to fall even more in love with my husband (which I didn’t think was possible). I gained a better appreciation for what I have & more empathy for those who are suffering. Over time I’ve learned that when shitty things happen to me, I don’t have to blame myself for it. Blame and guilt, 2 huge emotions that come with loss. I worked through those emotions, and while I’m not completely healed of them, I don’t beat myself up anymore. Silas Orion will always be a light in my life, will always hold a space in my heart and will always be the big brother to the next little Gallagher to come our way.

The song Sorrow by Pink Floyd came on my ipod today while I was driving and I thought about how that word just nails how I’ve felt this summer.

Yesterdays -all of a sudden- fall weather threw me for a loop. After all the heat and humidity, to get this burst of fall sent a pit to my stomach that is unmistakable. It is that feeling of dread, that feeling I’ve felt only once before and that was last year this time.

The change of seasons now, of summer to fall, will always signify the impending birth and death of Silas. I remember that feeling all too well of hanging in our yard with our various friends and family members, weeks after Silas died, watching the leaves and acorns cover our yard. This time of year will never be the same again.  It just feels too soon for it to happen. It’s still August – I just wasn’t prepared for it.

Both Chris and I felt it yesterday. We didn’t even have to talk about it, but we acknowledged the change in the weather and that deep, dark pit it left in our stomachs. It’s been a tough summer for me. I haven’t worked all that much, and when I have, I’ve felt like I’ve lost my passion a bit. I’m a lost puppy right now. In between 2 lives. One that I’ve lived and one that I want.

It makes it really hard to be satisfied and fulfilled when you are treading in that in between place. I can’t ever have my old life back. The easy-going fun with friends & music & innocence. I don’t have that life I’ve been wanting now for what seems like years. We’ve been living here in New Haven for almost 3 years. This longing for a child has been with me for longer then that. We started trying way back when we returned from our 3 month honeymoon in SE Asia. That seems like a lifetime ago and a really long time to be wanting something.

I am taking a trip out west in a few weeks and I’ll be gone for almost a month. I’ve had that need to get away for a bit, to maybe find those parts of myself that I lost. I have my sister’s bach party in Vegas, a quick stint in LA,  our friends wedding in Napa, some SF time and then my sisters wedding in Colorado. Instead of the back and forth, I decided to make it a west coast journey, with time off to recharge, renew and let go.  Chris will be coming out for both weddings so as soon as I start missing him, luckily I’ll get to see him. Being without him will be hard, but I know we’ll manage.  It’s really the kitties I’m worried about. I miss them when we’re gone overnight!

The strange part of all of it is that we’ll be apart on Sept 25. I am doing a Kids Yoga teacher training that weekend in Berkeley and Chris will be home in New Haven. I know it will be hard for us to be apart on that day. But every single day of my life is hard now, so really, how much harder will that be for us? It’s just how it worked out.

Last week we rented a beach house with friends for a few days. The Phish shows we saw were really fun, but the real highlight was getting to swim in the ocean. Oh, how amazing it feels to dive in and under huge waves, and ride them to shore. I felt like I was able to leave behind some of the sorrow and grumpiness I’ve been holding inside me these last few months. Then yesterday’s winds and cold came and brought it right back.

I tried really hard to not pay attention to my cycle this time around. But since it lasted for 40 excruciating days, it made it almost impossible to ignore. Days 32 & 33 I thought, “hmmm, where are you period?”  I know you are coming. Days 34-36 I thought,  ok, this has happened before, I don’t feel pregnant, you must be coming any minute.  Days 37 – 39, ok, well, now it’s really really late. I must be pregnant. Right? BFN. Ok, so I’m not. Where the hell are you then? And onto day 40, I finally drank some ginger tea and bam, there she was. And so it goes. Story of my life. If I’m not going to be pregnant, then why can’t my periods just come on time? Why do I have to be fucked with? So unfair. Of course I googled “late period after failed IVF” and a shitload of posts from every baby/fertility site came up. I guess I should have done that a week before and spared myself the torture of thinking, am I? Is this normal?

I’ve been doing the acupuncture, chinese herbs, red clover, red raspberry leaf & nettles tea, royal jelly, false unicorn root path and so I just assumed all that would have helped my cycle get regular. Even though I am taking all these herbs and eating the right foods (though I have not given up beer- I have to have a little fun right?) and all that, I also did not pay attention to my cycle at all. I didn’t even know I was late until I went to my acupuncturist who said, oh, today is day 32 of your cycle. What? Oh, how ’bout that. I was proud of myself for not counting all month and not paying attention to any of it.

And look where that got me.

So, as my sorrowful summer comes to a close, I am going to continue to stay thankful for all the little things I do have in my life right now: Chris, the kitties, being back to my pre-baby weight (yay!) and a super fantastic Vegas weekend to kick off a few weeks of much needed travel.

That stands for Big Fat Negative for those of you not familiar. I’ve become a regular lurker and sometimes poster on the Resolve fertility message boards. It took me a while to figure that one out, even though I have become quite familiar with the BFN month after month. I was hoping for the good ‘ol BFP but alas, bad news again.

It’s been a tough journey to say the least.  An IVF cycle is challenging on the body, mind and spirit. It takes a toll – especially because it’s a super long process and then getting a BFN out of it, well yeah, that’s just a devastating blow.  The days following those results aren’t so pretty either.

I’ve been in quite a funk since then.  We are trying again, but this time we’re doing a FET (frozen embryo transfer). I’m getting good with all the acronyms and there is quite a lot in this IF world I’m in. This cycle is way easier on my whole being- it’s shorter and way less meds.  I’m not poking myself with needles every day or ingesting tons of hormones that fuck with my moods.

Everyone wants to help me this time around so I am getting some Reiki, some other healing energy work, some bodywork, acupuncture and lots and lots of love. I am working incredibly hard to just stay somewhat relaxed through this cycle.  Luckily we have a few Phish shows in our near future, hopefully the healing power of music will help.

We keep going forward because we have to. I mean we don’t have to, we can choose to stop this whole thing right now and just see if my body decides to cooperate at some point in our future. But I don’t want to wait anymore. I want it yesterday and because I can’t have it yesterday, we have to do everything in our power to make it happen. And even that is a crap shoot as we have now learned.

I have placed my entire future on a perpetual hold. My therapist reminded me today that I need to live each day. You would think that is a pretty easy thing for someone to remember to do, especially for a yogi who’s entire mission is to be present. But I am constantly in the future-

“when I’m finally pregnant, then….” and

“when I finally have my babies, then…”

and it’s all I do these days. This funk I am in has washed over me. I am struggling to work, to be social with friends, to even care about anything else going on. When I think about the oil spill, or Haiti or the inhumane treatment of animals, it tears me apart in ways that may even be unhealthy. I can’t go there because it’s too sad and right now my life is sad enough that I cannot even handle it.

But then somehow I manage to get shit done each day. I dread going to work, but then I see the kids and most of the time they make me laugh or give me hugs or tell me they love me and yeah, that’s why I do what I do. Those moments I sort of forget my funk and my determination to be sad. Or I’ll get an email about a new school, or a new business idea pops into my head and then I dive in and let it take over for a bit.

But even when I can fake it, like I feel like I’m doing most of the time now, I just don’t feel the same anymore. I feel pretty ravaged.

I haven’t written in a while because I really really wanted to write about good news and not the same old shit that keeps happening month after month.  I appreciate those of you who continue to read and comment and stick with me. I don’t think I would have stuck with me after all this time, so kudos to those of you who have.

And dammit, I will have good news soon (there is a smidgen of hope still left in there!)

Last week I found the lowest of the lows.  I had some bad days in there, days where it felt like I won’t ever feel ok again.

But then here I am, feeling ok. Very ok even. I allowed myself to go there, to sink deep in the sadness, in order to feel the highs, the joy and the fun.

Last Thursday was a crazy day. I had to rush from one school to the next, all day long. I went from here to there and back again. My last class was at a yoga center and I taught until 5:30. The problem was that I needed to make a 5:56 train to NYC to make an 8:00 Phish show. I had some new students coming, so leaving early wasn’t a possibility. The owner of the studio offered to drive me to the train, and promised she’d get me there on time.

All week I had worked hard to figure out how I could make this train. I bought my ticket the day before. I scoped out places to possibly park my car if I drove myself. I asked some friends for a ride based on the possibility of leaving early. When Jen offered me the ride, I accepted knowing full well that we may not make it.

When I got in the car and the time drew closer and closer to 5:56, I was actually very calm. Jen, who promised to get me there on time- she was the one who was so nervous! I just thought to myself-

“If I don’t make it, no big deal.”

I had to. Otherwise I was setting myself up for a huge disappointment. And we all know how that goes. These days I find that I am talking myself into and out of all sorts of things in order to cope.

But, I made it, out of breath and with minutes to spare.  The train ride turned out to be as relaxing as it gets. After such a long day & the possibility of missing it, I was positively giddy! I did my crosswords, listened to the previous nights show on my ipod and just chilled out.

When I arrived, I had exactly 20 min to get from Grand Central to MSG. The race was on! Somehow, public transportation got me there meeting Chris inside as the opening notes began to play. By the time we got to our seats, I was so raring to go and thrilled that I pulled it off!

I had a great night. The music naturally takes my mind to places I sometimes don’t want to go. Like in Albany. Not this time- I made sure of it.

I had been so nervous that my downward spiral was just that. I really believed I would never get back out. That night I made a conscious choice to feel good and it worked.

The next day was also a lot of fun. We went and did a coffee cupping at the distributor where Chris buys his green beans to roast up for all his accounts.  A coffee cupping is kind of like a wine tasting. There is a whole methodology to it and I’m learning so much more about coffee then I’d ever imagined!

The show Friday night blew Thursdays out of the water. It was unbelievable, they were on fire. They played everything I wanted to hear, and it was just a perfect night of letting loose. Letting all the piles of shit fall off my shoulders as I danced my ass off.

Don’t get me wrong, all is not perfect right now. Far from it. The point is that I can still go there. I can find that joy- the fun, the place where I don’t feel like my world is caving in on me. I started getting nervous that I may not be able to do that.

I look back on how awful it felt to hear the news, and then how I needed to process it in order to feel ok with it. I’m sure that for some time, as long as I’m not pregnant, it will still be hard. All that matters is that today I don’t feel like I’m buried, unable to come up for air.

These days I go 2 steps forward and 10 steps back. It’s become the story of my life.  Oh how I cannot wait until 2009 is but a distant memory. What a year it’s been- and it just hasn’t let up.

I’ll start with a few steps forward and the awesome weekend on my dead baby mama retreat. I have been wanting to write about this for days, but some news when I returned sent me those 10 steps back.

I was so fortunate to be able to meet and hang with these 9 beautiful women. Angie, Tash, Tracy, Sarah, Niobe, Julia, Molly, m, Laura & I traveled near and far to spend the weekend in a rented house in Ocean City, NJ. Being the Jersey girl that I am, I was shocked to never have spent any time in this little slice of heaven.

There was knitting, chatting, sharing, cooking, boardwalk strolling, baking, arts & crafts making, laughing, game playing, drinking and relaxing going on at all times. It was a much needed time away from home, time to be with the girls- the ones who get it. Such a rarity to be able to share a few days with other women who really know exactly how you feel. It is quite unfortunate we met this way, but also completely necessary.

The next day, I got the worst good news ever. Another pregnancy.  So instead of being able to feed off of my wonderful weekend for a bit, I was sent into a tailspin and even to this day, have not fully recovered.

I expect pregnancy news all the time. It is what happens when all of your friends are married and ready to procreate. But every time, it just stings. This one though, I wasn’t prepared or ready for so it threw me for a complete loop. But this is how my life has been going lately.

The timing of this particular news was hard. We had to go and celebrate Thanksgiving somehow and pretend we were ok and that things in our life are not such a miserable mess.

And then someone said “Isn’t good news better then bad news?”

But Chris and I just want no news. And then the torment of my own mind when I think  “we should be happy for them.”

I am. Of course I am. These are people I love with all my heart.  But I’m sadder for us and that trumps any happiness I may feel. These feelings may pass in time, but this is how I feel right now and in order to get through them and get rid of them, I need to experience them. That much I know (thank you therapy).

It turned out that everyone was pretty amazing all weekend long- both the Thursday Gallagher Thanksgiving and the Friday Rosen Thanksgiving’s were really nice.  Somehow we even managed to laugh and have a good time.

My beautiful 24lb heritage turkey that I made for the Gallagher’s turned out delicious and that helped. But we are still needing to be protected, coddled and treated like the fragile beings we are. I hate being fragile and that I may crack at any given moment.  And yet that is how I feel. You could have swept the pieces of me off the floor of the theater on Sat night.

We decided to take a risk and drive up to Albany on Saturday to see Phish. We were ticketless but we heard they were giving away tickets the night before- there were many extras around. We got lucky and friends found us tickets really cheap. The night started well, but then I began to spiral into the abyss. It happened and I couldn’t seem to stop it.

It happened in an environment where I can usually let it all go and just have fun. I couldn’t do it. Chris couldn’t pull me out of it and I just delved into this deep funk and that was it. I was a lost cause. I hate the waste of what could have been a super fun night. Apparently it was some of the best music they’ve played since they started playing again but I couldn’t tell you that.

As I sit here writing, I’m still feeling so melancholy. I feel like I just need this month to sail on by so I can say goodbye to this year and this decade once and for all. I just need a fresh start.

I am Jewish so there has been no Christmas traditions in my own life- though I’ve become part of the Gallagher Christmas every year. Here in our own home, we don’t do a tree or celebrate in any way. For a few years in SF and our first year here in NH, we threw a Festivus party the day after Christmas. Now that was the way to celebrate the holidays! We didn’t do one last year, and for sure it won’t be happening this year. But that is a Gallagosen tradition I want to bring back at some point.

I don’t feel hopeful anymore, at least not this minute. There is more music for us on the horizon, but then it’s getting through the holiday barrage which I am not looking forward to in the least.

I will keep walking forward though, it’s all I can do.

Sun, music, relaxing, dancing, partying, camping.  It was the recharge we needed. Costumes were worn, a ferris wheel was ridden, time was spent with friends and new pregnancies were shared. There were emotional highs and lows and all the in betweens. I did alright, through all of it. Had a cranky few hours the first day, probably due to jet lag.  Besides that, I was happy from the moment I woke up, til the moment I went to bed. I know that hasn’t happened at all in this last year. I loved every moment I was able to look around me and be surrounded by friends. I don’t have that here. We have friends who live all over NY, NJ and New England- but none close enough to hang with like we did in SF. We had a tribe there, a huge group that we spent a lot of time with.

Coming back East was to be with family and occasionally see our friends who live a few hours away. We knew no one in New Haven. 2 years later, we still don’t have many friends, but we’ve made a nice life for ourselves. I miss SF, but I’m ok here. I realized this past weekend that I missed the tribe though. The close connections that happen when you spend a lot of time with people. Our crew spans across the country and around the world. It is a special bunch and I’m proud to be a part of it.

I feel so lucky that I have so many great friends who took so much time to make sure we were okay all year. During the weekend, I never felt like I had this babylost mom identity. I felt like the old Lani and it was nice. My sadness was there, but I didn’t take it out much. I didn’t feel the need to. I felt like sharing in fun & laughter instead. A lot of them had not seen us since Silas died and needed to give us hugs. We had a lot of people who have been waiting a long time to hug us.

But I never felt like I had to talk about it. They all know, they read my blog, or we chat on gtalk or email or text. It was an escape and a really necessary one.

There were reminders though- don’t get me wrong. We camped with our friends and their year old son Sammy. The whole time we saw the empty spot in the pack ‘n play that should have been Silas. We also spent time with little Carly- our friends daughter who had the brain tumor. I felt like I needed to give Carly all the love I have inside me and it felt good. Our good friends Brad and Christa have been through a hellish year too and continue to need as much love and support as we all can spare. It felt great to be there with them. They needed our hugs as much as we needed theirs.

Getting back to my regular routine last week was hard. I was ready to come back to it, but I was definitely dragging my feet. I tried to carry that feeling I had when we were away with me as I worked all week. I think I did alright.

Today was a hard one. It was just one of those days. One that I have every month and I’m back to being sad, helpless and disappointed. I knew that the joy would wear off at some point and I’d go back to my normal self. I was hoping to keep it going a little longer but this feeling is inevitable. I’ve learned that in dealing with my grief, I need to experience it all, the highs, lows and in betweens. Though I’ve gotten so used to disappointment, now I’m almost a pro.

I was just hoping the high would have continued a bit longer.  Today though, it came to a screeching halt. I knew the sadness would return, it was just waiting in the wings for the right time. It’s one of those days I guess. Even the warm, balmy weather didn’t make it better.

I’m in flip flops in November in CT, pretty amazing, but yet I’m still pissed off at the world today.

I keep hoping for some miracle to happen, as I think about my future self with a child and think-

“yes, that’s when I’ll truly be happy.”

I said that to Chris last week. My amazing husband, who is not a yogi, said-

“You need to find happiness in each day in that present moment. That is true happiness.”

or something like that.

Yes, he’s right. I can’t keep looking towards my future, when I assume things will all be better. Things will keep happening, good and bad. I know that. I should know that. It’s the basis of yoga- being present. Here I teach this each and every day to hundreds of  kids and somehow I can’t realize this for myself. I know it, but am not practicing it.

I laugh at least once a day, sometimes more. I do find joy in simple things- in lovely things. Flowers, butterflies, a song I can sing out loud to in my car, a great story on This American Life, chumby snuggling with me every single morning, my hilarious and patient husband, farmer’s market fare, bean & leaf coffee, my yoga kids (most of the time).  That’s a short list.  Obviously there is so much more- family, friends, Phish festivals (of which we are going to this coming weekend and I am so excited I can barely contain myself!). I can probably list at least a hundred other things that bring me joy.  Seeing all my bestest friends from out west and getting real life hugs and love will bring me more joy and happiness then I have experienced in a really really long time.  This coming 5 day respite from the daily grind that we have come to accept is a much needed mental health vacation.

The other day I had a slight meltdown. It was a regress, which I know happens sometimes. All the blame and guilt came back full force over our decision to homebirth Silas. A conversation that Chris & I had the other night and this amazing post by sweet/salty kate had me up in arms. Neither were intended to cause this. But both filled me with self-doubt and fear. Most of the blogs I read these days, of women who had stillborn babies, all believe they were truly to blame. It’s frightening how many of us are so conflicted with what is really just a tragedy that happened. For some of us, we could have made other choices, but for all of us, the intention to birth our babies in the safest, healthiest way was always the main focus. It was always what we wanted for our babies. So why the blame and guilt? I guess everything in life that goes wrong needs to be put on someone or something.  Perhaps a scapegoat makes us feel better.

Another part of it that I am tormented by is all those out there who blame us for the loss of our baby. It is almost too much for me to handle sometimes. But most of the time I then think – who cares about them, the blame I have for myself, that is what is most important and what needs to be dealt with.

Over this year, I have made it a point to share my view that homebirth is what we believed to be the safest and most beautiful way of bringing our son into the universe. For us,  it was not. I am on the fence about homebirth now. For some it is magical, for others, like us, it is tragic. But the same goes for hospital births. All of it is scary and we’ll never ever know what could or would have been.

As humans, we are programmed to think about how we could have changed something in our past or how we want our future to go. I am stuck in that instead of realizing all the beauty that is in my reach every single moment. Even my day in bed when I was sick, was needed and necessary and eventually brought me some happiness.

I hate that I’ve gone backwards- I’m tormented by my past and by my future. I can’t change what is or what hasn’t happened yet. All I have is now and I need to work hard to find those little pieces of joy and happiness in each and every moment. And right now, that would be packing for my vacation!

I miss the innocence so much. Last night we skyped with a bunch of friends in SF who were having a birthday dinner party and it just made me long for those days again. Our 4 years in SF were filled with parties, friends, music, excursions, camping, and just plain fun. We were supposed to go out and visit last week, see some Phish shows, do some camping with the group up in Washington where Phish was playing. I wanted to go so badly. But we had to be responsible adults and cancel our trip b/c of work and money and all that bs. We knew it was the smart thing to do.

Hearing the stories afterwards- that part is hard. I wanted to be a part of it all- but it would never be the same for me, that I know.  I don’t think I have it in me anymore to even be able to just let go and feel that carefree. I have a huge weight on my shoulders and a hole in my heart that any kind of fun cannot diminish.  I think back to those days with a longing and still wonder how I got here.

We try, so hard we try, to just go out and have fun, live life, laugh and just fill that void however we need to do it.  We took a city day this week. Hopped on the train and just explored NYC all day. It was a phenomenal day, we enjoyed the sites, sounds and the heat and especially each other. But even with days like that, necessary days like that, I just know something ain’t right.

With every moment of hope, there are equal moments of disappointment. It goes with the territory. Today is one of those days. I guess we have to just get back on that train, and continue to explore. It’s just so damn hard picking myself up after extreme disappointment time and time again. I knew it could happen. I prepared myself for the possibility. But the hope outweighed all that.

I want to take an eraser and just erase this last year of my life. I want to go back to that innocence where I believed it would all go smoothly and I’d have my baby boy in my arms like I dreamed for so long. Every passing day that takes me further away from Silas, fills me with dread. I am no closer to a baby today then I was yesterday, though I  could have been.

We have a few more Phish shows this weekend which will help. We get to dance and be with friends and make attempts at fun.  While the innocence is no longer there, the music definitely takes me places that I can’t control. It allows me to free my body and soul for a bit and just let in a little bit of what I lost.

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