Monday she was born. Sunday we went to the hospital. The doctors tell me that she probably passed on Saturday. I was still happy Saturday (I was obviously oblivious to what was happening inside of me). I was still happy Sunday morning. I was a little concerned Sunday mid-day when she wasn't moving. I was getting anxious driving the 50 minutes to the hospital Sunday afternoon. I wanted to be dead Sunday evening. So, given the fact that that my world crumbled slowly over the course of 3 days, its been 4 (ish) weeks of Hell on earth.
My perfect Charlotte Ann was born still on October 6th, 2014 at 38 weeks and 6 days. She was the most beautiful child I have ever laid my eyes on. Obviously I am biased, I mean I am her mother, but she was absolutely beautiful. She had very dark hair and full lips. She had a cute little button of a nose, just like her dad. Actually, everything about her was just like her dad. I love that. I hate that time is taking me away from staring into that perfect face.
Time is a bitch. When you want it to speed up, it just trudges along. When you want it to slow down, it races ahead. But, as bitchy as time is, it always moves on, whether you like it or not.
The past 4 (ish) weeks have done exactly what bitchy time promises; they have moved on. I feel relief to know that I have survived this long without going completely, clinically insane. I feel proud that I have returned to work. I feel guilty that I have had moments (short as they are) where I feel OK. And I feel depressed that everyday I am getting farther away from the moment, the only moment, when I held my daughter.
She is the daughter I spent a lifetime dreaming about. The daughter I spent 9 months cuddling (I count the constant hand on my belly, imagining that I am caressing her back, as cuddling). The daughter I imagined would be my mini-me. The daughter I couldn't wait to see laying on Dan's chest each night on the couch as we had our nightly ritual of watching TV and eating snacks. The daughter I loved with every ounce of my being. Time is taking me away from my daughter.
But, time is also healing the gaping wound of grief that has all but killed me in the past 4 (ish) weeks. I can't say that each day is easier than the day before, but I can say that each day I feel just a little bit stronger. Time is making me stronger. It's also getting me closer to the moment when we bring home her living brother or sister. Time will get us to the happy, living family that Dan and I dream of having. A happy, living family that misses Charlotte more than meager words can express, but a happy family none the less.
4 weeks (ish) isn't a lot of time, but it is some. It's taking me away, but also moving me forward. There is no changing it and no going back. We just have to go with it. It will continue to take me farther and farther from the life I had with her, but the real Charlotte, her heart and
soul, will always be with me. Time will never take her from my heart. Take that, bitchy time.