I will never forget the feeling of stillness. I was standing still and the whole world was moving around me as if nothing had ever happened. How could they? Didn’t they know my whole world fell apart? I mean, I know tragedies happen all the time. People lose their loved ones every day. But to me it was if I was the only one. No one knew my pain, my horrific, tearing me to pieces pain. My grief was an aching grief. My arms constantly ached to hold, to feel, to love.
I started this blog because I needed an outlet. Not just to showcase my cakes but to share things about myself I never have. Why you ask? Because I have to. I have to get this out. I know it might seem strange to have everything in one place, cakes, photography, love, and grief. But I just needed this blog to be about me and all that encompasses my life. The good, the bad, and the ugly. I have often been told my story is one I should share. It is pretty remarkable in so many ways. But it is also very VERY sad. When I look at my life I don’t want this to be my story. I have often shouted that through tears but nothing ever changed. I went years without being able to really look at myself in a mirror, in the eyes. I didn’t want to see the pain and I was lucky to have great distractions. In fact I went a few years without crying. Ever.
This post comes today as I just discovered my medical records. Every detail since that one day in April when I stopped being me and became someone else. I literately look at my life as the me before and the me after April 29, 2003. I miss her, the old me. All the time I miss her. But I can say that I am so glad I am me today. It has been a long journey the past seven and a half years. I have discovered and learned things that I treasure, that I feel lucky to know. But the sadness lingeres. The grief haunts me. This is a pain I will know for the rest of my life. And since my medical records are sprawled out on the desk in front of me I find myself immersed in the past. In the details. In the things I tried to avoid for so long. To see the ultrasound reports of when my girls were healthy only two weeks prior to being admitted for pre-term labor is hard for me. So much bad happened in such a short amount of time. And we were young, just babies having babies.
One thing I can say for sure is that I would not be here today if it wasn’t for an amazing man. He was faced with losing his wife and his children. We were just in this together from day one, we did it all together. He was always by my side. He had to make heart wrenching decisions no man should ever make. He is my hero. I was not alone after all. He knows my pain, he knows my loss like no one else. I remember those times when I pick up his socks two feet from the laundry basket for the one millionth time. Or when he falls asleep on the couch after a hard day at work. His life changed that day too. All of a sudden the weight of the world was on his shoulders. And he carried it, he took it seriously. I am one lucky girl. His role in Kaitlyn’s survival was so crucial and I cannot wait to tell you that story, for it is miraculous.
Telling the story of a day in my life when everything changed is hard. It is painful. It has taken me hours to write this because I keep getting overwhelmed and I have to leave to find a distraction so I don’t lose my mind. I have become really good at that. Finding distractions so I don’t have to feel it all over again. I am getting better though. As Kaitlyn gets older she asks questions. I want to be able to tell her the truth and help her heal. At the end of all of this I have her, and she is amazing. Not a day goes by that I don’t thank God for giving her to me. I am so lucky and blessed that I get to be her mom, that I get to have her in my arms, to hold, to feel, to love.