Just because the rose died, doesn't mean the stem isn't living...

I know I have not blogged in quite some time now. I fear my reasons are as simple as grief, pain, and misery.  I have been depressed and have been having an extreme struggle with my grief.  One that has led me on some pretty interesting paths.  But this is not why I am here tonight.  I simply wanted to share with you a thought I had today, or yesterday as it may be at this point.  So here goes.

So I was sitting around contemplating my single red rose stem. And I find it beautifully poetic that my husband gave it to me right after the new year and the rose died but the stem lived on to produce new leaves. I guess when a part of us feels like we've died there's a part of us still growing. Maybe our life can be like this rose. Maybe our life will turn into a rose bush and produce many roses like I hope this stem will. You see, I have cut off the dead rose and the thorn and have planted it. There will always be thorns and wilting flowers so I guess that's when we need to focus on the new growth as hard and painful as it may be.  New growth for a new year. Time to cut away the dead wilting parts and let new things happen. Good things.

Does this mean I'm not hurting? Does this mean my grief is over? Does it mean I have stopped missing my daughter? ABSOLUTELY NOT!!! I don't know when my grief cycle will complete but I know a little of me will always hurt for the daughter I can't have.  That being said, I miss my daughter more and more everyday.  This does, however, mean that I am trying to find meaning and hope in the aftermath of our personal tragedy. It means I'm trying to be like the stem and produce new growth.  I will always miss that first rose, but I have hope that things can grow out of death.

Amazing what you can get from a dead flower, huh?

Coffee....

So I have recently acknowledged that loosing Ashley has turned me into a bitter woman.  I see pregnant women and women with newborns and it just gets under my skin! Why do they get their babies and I don't get mine? It makes me angry and bitter that instead of Ashley's body growing big and strong, it is rotting in a cloth and wooden coffin inside a cement vault.  It's morbid to think about and disgusting that it's true.  I never had a thought like that until I lost Ashley.  I guess it's because anyone else I've known that's passed away my age or older had some chance of life and she had none.  I have all this bitterness building up inside me and I can't seem to get rid of it.  All I want is hope and some happiness.

So here is where coffee comes in.  I love Starbucks. My recent kick is a Venti Iced White Chocolate Mocha.  Yum! Yum!  However, I can't stand my coffee black! Why? You guessed it! It's strong and BITTER!!!  However, once I add that flavor and/or sugar and milk, it is yummy.  The bitterness becomes tolerable.  It becomes livable.  And getting an iced coffee instead of hot coffee in the summer is calming just as having a hot coffee in the winter is warming.

So here is where it ties in.  Right now I am like a big, fat, huge cup of piping hot strong bitter coffee in the summer.  I'm tired of the heat.  I need something soothing and calming.  My anger and bitterness are overwhelmingly strong.  In fact, much like coffee, they keep me awake at night even when I don't want them too.  And my bitterness in itself is hard to digest.  I can't stand my bitterness and I can't seem to change it.  So what I want and need is something sweet and flavorful, like hope.

The sweet hope I want is another baby, particularly another girl.  I crave pregnancy and having a baby much like I crave caffeine when I go too long without it.  Thing is, I can't always get caffeine just like I can't get pregnant on a whim.  I'm not that lucky.  I'm not the woman who can try to get pregnant once with my husband and be successful.  Heck, I only have one fallopian tube so it makes it that much harder.  But I want that hope.  As hard as it is, I want another baby sooner than later.  I want the sweetness of a little bundle of joy to start taking away some of the bitterness in me, just like I want sugar with my coffee.

I know that there will always be something of the anger and bitterness about loosing Ashley lingering around, just like the taste of coffee after you've finished the cup, sugar or not.  And really, that's ok.  Because I love Ashley and never want to forget her.  But I need some white chocolate flavoring and milk added to my coffee cup now.

So right now, if I had to describe it, I would say my grief is like a hot and strong bitter cup of coffee.