The Blue Sparrow

At the end of every day I am still left in awe of how strange it feels that life keeps whizzing by me. The rain still falls and the people in this small town go about their everyday routine; buying groceries, filling their gigantic suv's with gasoline, picking up their children from day care. I should be getting use to this by now, but its still feels wrong to me. I still feel like I'm on the outside looking in. I sit at work and wonder when life will begin to feel normal again. When will I be able to make it through a day without my thoughts lost in July. My life hit the brakes in July and I'm still wondering how the world can keep turning without Bryston and Peanut here to keep my world revolving.

In my car driving the other day I caught myself playing a sick little game with myself. Kind of a he loves me, he loves me not kind of game. With each house I passed I thought this one has been in my shoes, this one has not. This one has buried her baby, that one is one of the lucky ones. This one cries in the shower too, that one cries only with joy. How awful that at the thought that I was probably more accurate in my morbid little game, than not. How common our stories are but how hidden from the world our stories are. I hear more and more every week of another family joining the ranks of our bereaved club, and I wonder why I never heard these things as often before? Is it because now that I've been there people know its something that I can relate to and feel free to share with me or did I chose to ignore these stories as they were whispered to me?

I'm tired of the whispers! I want to scream every time I think about each of our angels! Why doesn't the world care enough to get involved? Why is loosing a child an awful secret? A statistic? Why is stillbirth still a medical mystery? It infuriates me! Why does no one care about this unless it touches their own life? I admit it, before Bryston, I was just like them. Who wants to hear about this? How depressing and awful, so why not sweep it under the rug? I just don't understand. Your hearts bad, lets get you a new one, your arms been amputated, okay lets get you a new one. We can give antibiotics and surgeries to accommodate numerous ailments but a lost child, no one can replace or heal the hurt that leaves in its wake.

I wish that I could just trade in all of my earthly possessions like tokens to God in exchange for my babies. I can just imagine backing up a U-Haul to the pearly gates and waiting in line for my exchanges. Knowing my luck though, they'd tell me that the guy in front of me had used the last exchange voucher and that I was out of luck. How sad is that, even my lunatic daydreams end poorly. LOL, I guess I must be in one of those strange moods tonight. See ya next time bloggers, I'm off to bed. Hopefully I'll dream a better ending to that one tonight. I'm still waiting on my angel dreams, no such luck yet. Maybe tonight's the night! Wish me luck bloggers! *HUGS*