A Fake Normal

As I suspected, Halloween was hard. Very hard. In fact, it set me back quite a bit. I thought I could handle it. We carved pumpkins and even set up some of our Halloween decorations.  I had a big basket of candy ready for the trick-or-treaters and was mentally preparing myself all day.

Ty dressed up as Dr. Cube (don't ask, I have no idea but at least we had the costume from our 2 months at a hospital) and I picked him up from school and took him over to a friends house for his first year of trick-or-treating without me. Then I came home and Dan and I waited. After the first kid came, we looked at each other and just said "nope." We put the basket of candy outside and went to Chilis for some margaritas. And that was Halloween.

And then it was over. I made it through the day. One day down, the rest of my life to go. That's the part I hate so much about this. I'm not living my life anymore. I'm just trying to make it through the day. The thought just makes me even more depressed. I don't want to live like this. I don't want to be miserable and cry at everything. I feel like I am just going through the motions of life and not really living it anymore. I get up, I go to work (either at home or in the office), I do my work and I come home. And I cry. A lot. You'd think by now my body would be incapable of making anymore tears but they are still constantly there.

I honestly feel worse now then I did right after she died. In a way, I think it's because of the fact that I have to move on and I feel guilty. Like I'm dishonoring her by resuming my life like she was never a part of it. I know that's not the case but I do. And I don't want to move on. I would give anything to still be by her bedside in the hospital and be able to kiss her head again and hold her hand. I don't have any regrets about any decisions we made. I just wish we hadn't had to have made them. It's cliche but I miss her so much that it physically hurts. I just want to be holding my baby right now rather than sitting by her grave and grasping for signs that she is still with me.

Another thing that is eating me up inside is this damn autopsy report. Seven weeks and it is still not ready. I call the pathologists office every single day. They do not like me very much down there but tough. I am going to keep calling. I've also decided that if we don't have a report by next week, I'm going to move up the food chain and start talking to hospital administration. I've never been one to just settle for answers that I don't like - I take action. I've also decided that if I don't have a report in two weeks, I'm driving down to CHLA to demand it. I don't have a baby anymore so I've got some time on my hands. I know I probably sound pretty bitchy right now but I can't even begin to describe how not having this report is affecting my life. How am I expected to "move on" when I don't even have a grasp on why this happened in the first place? (Well, I have some ideas and it definitely involved some lazy ass people not doing their jobs but that's neither here nor there.) I know having this report is not going to be the end all of my suffering but it can at least help close a chapter. And I need at least one chapter closed.