Fight or Flight?

All I can think about, besides you, is getting the fuck out of here. Selling everything we own. Packing up. And leaving. It has nothing to do with the people that surround us. It has nothing to do with all of the people that love us and support us. It has nothing to do with our love for you. Or maybe that’s all it is. I love you so much, I just can’t stand living my life without you. I can’t even picture what it looks like. I can’t stand taking a breath when you never had the chance. And I have to. I can’t give in. I can’t stop breathing. And it is so hard to breath, all the time. It is so hard to watch your brother play and know that you will never play with him. It is so hard to hear him laugh, knowing I will never hear you laugh. It is so hard to see what makes him smile and know that Iwill never know what would have made you smile. It is so hard to know I will never know what the color of your hair was and even worst, the color of your eyes. Everything is hard. Everything sucks.

Maybe I can leave. Maybe I can drop everything, pack up and go. Where? I have no idea. I want to go to a place where it doesn’t hurt. A place where I don’t bawl when I see a newborn. A place where I don’t lose it when I see a very pregnant women. A place where I can sit, in nature, and drink a cup of coffee in peace. A place that is quite. A place where the distractions have more to do with your big brother and our plan for the day than real life. A place where I don’t have to make constant decisions. I want to go somewhere where I don’t know anyone. Or at least where I don’t feel like I have to create relationships. A place where I don’t have to stress about work and the daily rat race. A place where I can spend my days thinking about you. I want out. I want to go. And I want to go now.

I guess they call this fight or flight. I have done a lot of fighting in my head. Why you? Why us? Why didn’t we just induce early? Why didn’t we just have you on the day that you were 38 weeks and a “happy baby.” Why were you breech, and then not breech, and then breech again? Why couldn’t you just give us a sign that you were ready? Why did I not pick up on your signs? The should haves, could haves, would haves are brutal. I can write about those some other time. I want out. I want to leave life. I want to be somewhere new. Someone new. Not the women who is ignored because her baby died. To me it feels like it could maybe be refreshing. I get why I feel this way. I know why I want out. I don’t want to admit that losing you is real. That our life and our reality is without you. That I now have to live the rest of my life without you.

God… I wish we weren’t practical adults. I wish we could just pack up and go. Damn insurance. Damn bills. Damn retirement. Damn jobs. I want out.


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