It’s a toss up for me as to which is the worst part of my child dying. On one hand it’s the nightmares, I don’t always remember them but it’s as if I’m half awake and half sleeping. Part of me knowing I’m dreaming and the other part gives into the dream reality. Regardless I wake up with amnesia for a few minutes before I remember I’m not pregnant anymore and my baby’s in Heaven now.
On the other hand it’s going out in public that’s hardest for me. Routes we drove that day transport me right back to the trauma and being around people just reminds me of the way I thought our family would look right now. Hardest of course is the babies. My first trip out after Avery’s birth was too early and the sight of a woman with a baby in a baby carrier strapped to her was nearly enough to bring me to my knees in Walmart.
Sleeping and going out get easier and then they don’t and it’s just as bad as the very beginning. But I’ve read there is no backward with grief, everything is forward.