Lilypie Angel and Memorial tickers

Lilypie Angel and Memorial tickers

28 Nov 2011

The Better, The Worst.

The better I function, the worse I feel.
Not cause of guilt, or regret,
But of the knowledge that
This "new" good, is the
"Old" good's worst nightmare.

25 Nov 2011

8 Months Today

It has been eight long months since I held you in my arms, since I kissed you, since I said good-bye to you. It seems like a lifetime without you, but it went by so fast.

You took a piece of my heart with you, leaving me a piece of yours.

Mama loves you, forever and ever.

21 Nov 2011

That week again.

Got myself a cake. Had a slice. Mmmm, chocolate!

Walked into the bedroom closet. Turned on Lady Gaga.

And danced my pants off!!!!!!!

Yours truly, dancing in the closet!

Feeling much better now. Highly recommend it!

Back to doing social research.


15 Nov 2011

Finally, I saw her in my dream!

I saw Amelia in my dream today.

She came, with all her toys, to save me from this place. There was her Mimi doll, her Chicken farm stack, Ella's teddy bear, and her laughing Dino book. Best of all, she was there. Dark wavy hear, button nose. She looked just like I thought she would, so cute, I didn't care that it was a dream.

I didn't care that in that dream I was in what seemed to be a prison, or a movie theatre of some sorts, she was there, there to get me out of this place.

I hope she comes again tonight...

11 Nov 2011

Silent Mother

For a long time now I've been trying to find a word that would describe me as a mother. I just found it.

I am a Silent Mother.

Not a Tiger Mother, never will be for that matter, not after what I've been through with Amelia.
Not a Dragon Mother either, I didn't get to be one. For that I'm part grateful, part sad.

I am a Silent Mother. My baby was born silent. The room she was born in was silent. The people were silent. There were no congratulations, just silent looks.

I don't tell many people that I have a daughter, I stay silent as they assume I don't have a child. I stay silent to stay sane.

I am silent when I talk to my daughter.

And she, silently, talks back to me.

I am a Silent Mother.

10 Nov 2011

At Night

For the last seven months I wondered what is it like where you are at night. I don't mean your spirit, but you body. The one I carried and cared for, the one I longed to hold, the one I hugged and kissed. As any mother, when I worry about you in the middle of the night, I just want to open the door to your bedroom and see you sound asleep in your crib. But you are not there, and neither is your crib.

So tonight was the night we went to see you at the cemetery. It was everything and nothing I imagined it to be. It wasn't as dreary as I thought it might be. Instead, it was peaceful. The fog rolling over the hill. So quiet.

Sometimes I imagined that at night, when everyone is gone home, you and your friends come out to play on the grass. In my mind I saw you run around, laughing, smiling, playing with your friends. Just what any other kid would do when their parents are not watching. But you weren't.

It kills me that I have to drive to the cemetery to see you in the middle of the night, just to make sure you are ok. It hurts me that I don't have the guts to correct people when they assume I don't have you, just to avoid the awkwardness and the silly comments. It drives me crazy that you are not with me, that I can't tuck you in at night. Yet, somehow, I put one foot in front of the other every hour of every day, and I carry on. Because I love you, and because I am your mother.

Good night my darling, sleep tight and don't let the ghosts bite.

Love you forever,