But, it's not. It's not my life. It will never be my life. It's one thing to envy someone because they have a wanted job; but it's another when your missing your baby from the picture, the job description changes.
I have to admit, I am still in shock that this is my life; my family's life. I never imagined my daughter blowing kisses to the sky for her little brother to catch. I never imagined fitting in Sam's Park time into my free time. Shock. I have to live in fear for any future children I may have. What kind of a fucked up life is that? My life. My husband's life. My daughter's life. And there is nothing any one or anything can do to change that. Shock.
When I was at Faith's Lodge and we were having our group session, the psychologist said something that I never thought was me. I am a victim of post traumatic stress. Sam's death is a traumatic event in our lives. We entered that hospital with one outcome in our minds and were given the complete opposite! Trauma. People don't bounce back from trauma, so stop judging our grief people. There are still Vietnam Vets who are fucked up from the shit they saw and experienced. People set up funds and cushion those victims with a down pillow. But when a parent chooses to handle their baby's death a certain way they are judged. Now, I 'm on a tangent. Sorry. I shouldn't care what people think of my grief. Ha! Easier said than done.