We attend a support group. A group for parents who have lost children. And I want to scream.
We're part of a club now. A club I never wanted to join. And we'll never be able to get out. I feel myself pushing against it, trying so hard to escape. We don't belong here. We're not like them. Surely we don't have a dead baby too.
And while I hate being a part of the group, it also gives me so much strength. Knowing that we're not alone. Knowing that there are other parents out there who have survived. Who have built a new future, through no choice of their own.
I don't want to, but I do it. I have to. And I do want to move on, in a way. I want it to be over. I want to be whole. And I never will. And I don't want to forget. And I don't want to move further away from the pain. The pain is where Ryann ends and our new life begins. The life I never asked for.
But the others give me strength and hope. The others who are living the lives they never asked for.
I ran across a blog the other day. Jack at Random is the voice of a Dad who has been chronicling the life of his little family. This spring he lost his baby girl, a little blue-eyes girl named Margot. His love for his daughter and the words he gives to his loss strengthen me. We are not alone.