So much of grieving a child feels crazy, particularly one who leaves before they even arrive. Today we were told to write about something that might feel strange or uncommon. I wasn't sure what to write on, since so many times I felt like I was going crazy. Nothing about grief is really like they talk about in the books or portray on tv. Sis. Kate and I talked about something one night, that I finally settled on to share. I know it is something that must be common to others because she confirmed that she felt that way 27 years ago after her loss.
For several months afterward, I felt empty inside. Not a mental emptiness or a sad longing, but a physical emptiness. I can remember telling Gary once and it was obvious that he didn't get it. Physically it wasn't any different than before we got pregnant, everything would have looked the same on hospital scans, but it felt like there was something missing in there. For nearly a month I could feel her kick, even though she wasn't there anymore. Gary reminded me that I had those phantom kicks with Ruth, that they have been scientifically documented. The contrast of feeling movement, and feeling emptiness in the same way that you might feel a bucket with your very hands as you pick it up, was maddening. And there was no way to describe that very tangible feeling, without sounding like I had lost it.