Thinking up a title for these things is always a problem for me. I guess I have always had this problem - thinking up a poignant title for whatever I'm writing. This particular title is from a Mumford and Sons song of the same title. Pretty much written for me. I've had a hard day. I'm crying right now writing this.
Nothing hugely significant happened today. Just a normal day - normal for what is qualified as life now. Yesterday, Naya would have turned 3 months old. A huge milestone in the life of a newborn. I dropped Ty off at school yesterday, went to the gym for an hour (great for the aggressions) and then went to Trader Joe's and bought Naya a bouquet of flowers to put on her grave. (Sidenote - took out some of my "anger" on some dumb lady at TJ's. She unloaded her groceries into her Range Rover that was parked next to me and proceeded to leave her cart right next to my car. I was standing right there, so I walked up to her and put my hand on her arm and said "Don't worry. Since you are obviously too lazy to put your cart away yourself, I'll do it for you." Yeah, I never said I wasn't a bitch. My biggest pet peeve is when people don't put their damn carts away.) Anyway, I brought the flowers to the cemetery and sat there and talked to her for awhile and drove home and worked for awhile.
Today, I went into work after dropping Ty off. I actually stayed in the office until around 2pm. Great accomplishment for me. What really set me back was a conversation I had with our social worker from CHLA. When Naya died, we decided to have them perform an autopsy on her to rule out genetic issues in case we want to have another baby. I called the social worker today because they told us the results would take 4-6 weeks and it will be six weeks tomorrow. She told me that she had spoke to the pathologist today and that the results could possibly take another 6-9 months.
This fucking crushed me. 6-9 months! Are you fucking kidding me?! For me, these autopsy results represent an end to this. I mean, I know that this is going to emotionally stab me in the fucking chest everyday for the rest of my life but I was hoping for some sooner "closure" to at least some answered questions in a timely manner. But FUCK!!!!!!!!!!!! 6-9 months! More! Of this! Of not knowing shit and just torturing myself with questions! Of wondering if it is ever going to be safe to try again?! Of being stuck in the same god damn stalemate of not knowing anything! Of not sleeping and torturing myself with all of the what ifs! I seriously can't fucking take this. The past three months of my life have been absolute torture and now it can prolong this for an additional 6-9 months?! No. The Pathologist is getting a call directly from me tomorrow. I can be a persistent and annoying person when I want to be. Be prepared Pathologist. Be prepared.