2 Years- this is my life

This past Sunday marked 2 years since my daughter died. The time that has passed has seemed such a dream. Almost like there are two lives I live now. One life is for my son Xander. I love him so much and he needs to be taken care of. So I love him, laugh with him, play with him, then he's ready for bed, which is daddy time so I get goodnight loves. That life I get up every morning and go to work because its necessary for Xander and the family. I spend the day as "work me" the happy/funny/ proactive me.

 Then the other life I live. The one where time is still, daunting, and cruel. The rest of this life is spent alone, even when my husband is at my side. This life is the life where I long for the 3 year old who should be running around. I long for the 2nd car seat that should be in the car. I long for the words she would have learned by now, the silly conversations and the curious questions. My arms long to hold her and hug her and hold her hand as we walk. That life stays the same. I don't function well in that life. After Xander goes to bed there is TV watching or cell phone playing. There's minecraft. All the things Sean and I do because nothing seems to matter in this life. We do laundry when we need clothes cleaned, but rarely are they nicely folded and put in drawers, clean clothes sit in baskets on the floor. We don't do the dishes as often as we should, and cleaning is done when visitors are coming. Projects are just ideas that rarely get acted upon. I feel like that happiness I had when life with Sammie existed left with her and there is just emptiness.

How cruel this life has become. I gained a lot of weight after she died. I was pregnant with Xander and gained too much and after having him I never had the energy to do anything. Even now when I try so hard to find motivation to lose weight....we pick up dinner on the way home because cooking takes effort, and my effort is spent in my other life for Xander.

I miss her with all my heart. I don't know what the future will hold for Sean and I, but i know it is not with her. Yes I am religious and my religion says I will be her mother again and will raise her, but first i have to make it through what is here now. The promise of the future has been a lifeline from complete breakdown of life and self, but it does not fill the emptiness. The emptiness that I will feel into my old age. Only then in my old age may God have mercy on me and let me finally cross over into the entirely new life where she may yet exist.

Where was my miracle

As I mentioned in a previous post, I read a lot of news articles. Yahoo is my favorite because of the vast variety of topics from world news, to celebrity gossip, to fun facts, and even sports news. I also like to read the local news from KSL. I like knowing what is going on around me. It also helps in conversation when I can site something I've read.

I try to not read stories that have to do with children being injured or killed. It's still so raw and I know my emotions can't always handle it. The worst is to read about people's "miracles" when their child survives something, especially if its involving choking or a child coming back after they stop breathing. These stories talk about the miracle in their child surviving. How beyond Doctors expectation a child gets better, doesn't suffer long term effects, things like that. I am happy for these people because no one should EVER have to have their young child die. No one. Ever.

I read a story today about a women whose 9 month old stopped breathing. She thought she was choking and she tried back blows and nothing was working. She called 911 and within 2-3 minutes a police officer was there. The police officer took the child, administered back blows, and the child started screaming--breathing---saved. She said that from making the 911 call to having her daughter breathe again was 4 minutes.

I gave my daughter back blows. She started breathing again but she was in obvious pain and could make a labored crying noise. We knew in minutes something was still wrong so ran to the car and raced to the nearest insta care down the street. In the car was when she stopped breathing again and I tried to start chest compressions with her laying on my lap. I carried her limp body into an empty lobby and screamed for help. Two doctors took her into a room and raced to get her breathing. They called the paramedics and I don't know if it was the instacare doctors or the paramedics that got her heart beating and her breathing, but they did it, she was breathing, I thought I got a miracle too. This was my miracle. They life-flighted her to primary children's hospital where a surgeon had to use a scope to get the pea out of her lung. But I didn't get my miracle. Her brain was too damaged from the loss of oxygen and she never woke up.

I've read stories of infants/children who were unconscious and not breathing for 30 minutes and even more, but they ended up ok. Doctors say from when she started choking they think 10-15 minutes without air. She should have been fine. Everything else was fine. Her heart was perfect. Her other organs were functioning, even her lungs were not damaged. But any of those taking the damage would have meant a different outcome, her brain, the only part of the body that can't be repaired, that's what was damaged.

Sometimes in my darkest moment I see that day and the events and wonder why I couldn't have been one of the lucky ones whose child comes home and continues to learn and grow and be. Did I do something wrong? Should I have called the paramedics myself, at home, when I could hear sound. That's supposed to mean its ok right? Why did she be the one that didn't make it. Why couldn't she be the medical miracle.