Truth is, I'm not really coping.
I know that's not healthy, especially since we are trying to conceive again right now, but I really don't think I will ever cope.
On days that Paddy is working an early shift I usually cry in the mornings.
It's something about lying in bed on my own trying to get back to sleep after he's gone that makes my brain think of nothing else but that day at the hospital and the way that I was.
Sometimes I wish the family weren't with us for that moment. I held back so much because everyone else broke down. I've always tried to be the strong one that looks after everyone else. Especially since my Paddy is not like that at all. He lets things go and his emotions are very much on the surface. I was holding everything together for all of them and I wish I hadn't. At the same time I'm glad I did. I suppose you'll never really know how you act with something like that until it happens.
Please god never let that happen again.
I get through most days the same way I used to. I just do. I can't explain anything else other than that. I do talk about Ted. I talk about him a lot. there isn't a day that passes where his name is not mentioned. His photos are up around the house. All of his things have been put away now (which was very difficult) but there are still hints of him being here. His moses basket is still in our bedroom. And I like it there. So many people have asked when I'm getting rid of his stuff or what I'm doing with it. And I'm not doing anything with it. people avoid talking about him like he never existed, and i know they are trying not to make things worse. but he did exist. If he had gone when he was born or even before I may have been able to understand it all a little better, but he didn't. he wasn't just a pregnancy, he was a baby. he was alive and he was here and I can't ignore it.
I still haven't made an appointment to talk to the doctor. He keeps ringing up to check on me and really wants me to go down to talk to him. I will. I promise but I just can't make myself go there yet.
