I really wanted to run away but it's a lot more complicated than you'd think.
Vacation, like everything else in my life for the past year, was an emotional roller coaster. Highs were fun, laughing, riding bikes, snorkeling, integrating 2 families for the peace and ease it brings. Enjoying being away. Lows were miserable and lonely. My emotions started the night before Father's Day. I woke up watching the movie in my head that I can't ever turn off. Jason driving me to the hospital as my water was breaking, seeing the looks of knowledge on the dr's faces, the looks of sadness on the faces of the nurses, the blind hope on my families faces. The labor, the births, holding our babies, having to give them to the nurses to be taken away forever. Leaving with nothing. Having 2 boxes of our babies ashes that we have no idea what to do with. It literally was crushing my spirit. I couldn't pull it together. But I didn't want to ruin Father's Day for Jason so I went to a water park. Did you know they have floats for very little babies so they can be in the lazy river with you? I didn't, until I saw a dozes mothers with their babies, floating. Not a care in the world. I couldn't stop the tears. Then a baby cried and my breast leaked milk. For a baby that wasn't mine. Everyone else was off having fun and I was the crazy lady crying, leaking milk. While families all around me enjoyed Father's Day.
I couldn't go to dinner last night with everyone. I couldn't stop the tears. I wanted to run away, never felt so lonely. There's no where to run when you are in a place you have never been and don't know how to get anywhere. Luckily I couldn't find my wallet so it kept me there in the camper, alone, with nothing to do but think.
It's hard for me to do normal things. I'm fine one minute then a wreck the next. I don't have much to talk to anyone about because no one wants to hear what's upsetting me, this time. Again.
I'm back home and I'm lost. That's the thing about vacation, you have to come back. Now I'm home and I'm lost. I'm sad and I'm frustrated.
Life passes by. Life keeps going. Good days and bad. I feel like its time to make some decisions but every option scares me.
Have been toying with the idea of thinking about trying another pregnancy at some point. And then I have a dream that I'm pregnant. And all is good. Until I throw up and realize I have thrown up my baby and there is nothing I can do but try to shove it back in. And I wake up in a panic and I'm crying and hysterical.
I don't expect this to be easy. But I didn't expect to feel so alone. So much like a freak whose emotions are literally all over the place.
I'm tired of the good job for getting out of bed, out of the house, that my dr gives me. In tired of missing something I can't have back. 2 very special something. I'm tired of being alone bc I don't know how to be with people anymore.
This has changed me. I'm trying so hard to make it into a positive change but the pain is still so raw, the fear is so constantly in my face, I'm always waiting for the next disaster to happen.
It's a sucky way to live. I have to figure out how these small steps are going to get me to a better place. Where the desire to run away isn't there. Where the guilt and shame and pain doesn't suffocate me.
I'm trying, the best I can, to make my days ok. I'm a mother. And I don't have my babies. That makes having good days hard.
But I'm doing the best I can. God hasn't left me and I know wherever I run to, even if its far away only in my mind, He is still there.
This isn't how my life was supposed to be. I should be up checking on my babies. Feeding them with the breast milk I still have. Singing them the songs my parents and grandparents sang me to sleep.
Today was bad. Yesterday was worse. Tomorrow, I pray that somehow, it will get better. I need some rest. I need some peace and I need that blind hope that got me thru 3 weeks of hell in Dec. 
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