I hate my clothes. Every single day I have to find something to wear and every day - Every. Single. Morning. - nothing fits. And every day - Every. Day. - it serves to remind me of what I have lost.
Stupid belly.
It is the ultimate adding of insult to injury that on top of losing a baby you also feel fat.
It takes time, friends soothe. The baby weight will come off. You need to give it time.
Funny how that's what they say about grieving, too. It takes time. It will get better.
The thing is, I don't want to give it time. I am not a patient person.
I am waiting for my clothes to fit. Waiting for another baby. Waiting to feel better.
My life has become a Giant Wait.
Or maybe a giant weight is more appropriate. In ever so many ways.
I know how you feel. Our guest room has been a planned but untouched baby's room for two years. It is usually full of boxes. Our loft space is full of my daughter's old clothes...waiting in case we have a girl baby. But I can't put the boxes in the guest room in the loft until we move the clothes bins and I can't move and sort or give away the clothes until I know know if we are having a healthy baby.
ReplyDeleteSo I feel stuck, always stuck. What decisions can be made in a constant state of unknown?