lots of words that have been in my head but I've been afraid to write

I feel sad and so strangely sentimental today.

To say I have been bad at writing lately would be an understatement. Both on my blog and in my own journal. I think, subconsciously, I have been holding off on writing until I have exciting news to share. Well, I don't have any exciting news to share. And sometimes I worry if I ever will.

I find myself feeling so alone lately. I miss having my constant, kicking companion with me. Things have changed and I have adjusted to this new life. A life with Madelyn in it seems so long ago. But I still miss her. I still crave for the times that never were. I find myself, sometimes, even longing for the teeny, tiny apartment we used to live in because no tragedy ever happened in that one. There wasn't an extra room filled with a crib and baby clothes. There weren't memories of coming back after finding out the news and having no idea what to do. This new apartment has witnessed some of my most devastating and low points. This apartment knows too much. It's like the walls are embedded with sadness.

I find time revolving around April 13, 2013, and I can't seem to stop it. Everything is "3 months before we lost Madelyn" or "Just a couple weeks after we lost the baby." It's defined my life now. I understand how tragedy can do that. I have one other tragic even in my past that I used to think was my lowest point. But even throwing up and having a panic attack on my dorm-room bathroom floor after receiving some not-so-fun-news, seems like a joy ride to some of the emotions I have felt over the past three and a half months.

In the beginning, I was writing every day. It helped me feel better then, but now I shy away from writing, which is something I have never done in my entire life. I feel like I am supposed to be "better" by now, and writing about how I'm not seems to just draw even more attention to the wound that hasn't healed and begins to scare me that it may never do so. And then I start to feel silly, because people have lost so much more than I have. People have suffered such ridiculous amounts and I am still reeling three months later. I have this incredible life. I have a job that I love, a husband who I am kinda stupidly obsessed with, a family who loves and supports me, a religion that brings me so much hope and peace, a roof over my head, plenty of food to eat, friends who love me and make me laugh, a healthy body.. the list goes on and on. But I feel so empty since my child was taken from me. Sometimes, I feel her kick. I don't like to say it out loud, but I do. It's a common symptom of mother's who have lost a pre-born baby, phantom kicking, but it breaks my heart each time, because I still have that split second of happiness before it crashes down and I realize I'm crazy.

I don't sit around depressed though. That's another blessing. I've been quite busy, but there are just days when the sadness comes and it's hard to shake once it's hit. One benefit from going through all of this is that it really shook me up in multiple ways. It called into light a lot of the things about myself that I wasn't particularly fond of. I have made a lot of changes these past few months. I am a lot closer to becoming the person I always said I wanted to be. Obviously, it's still going to a lifetime of work, but I have taken some major steps in starting to break habits that I used to rationalize. I am a much better person than I was last year. I am also very different. There's a weight in my heart now. I think that once a person has seen so much sadness and felt so utterly destroyed, they never really go back to being the same. I don't think I have lost my optimistic view on life completely, but it has been shaken a bit. I think it's just natural. Bad things happen in life to good people. It's just the way it goes.

I was sad today so I decided to go on a drive. I drove around down town feeling so nostalgic. We live here, so I obviously drive around all the time, but I don't often think about my past walking these streets. I drove past my old dorms and thought how funny that 7 years later, I live just 3 blocks south. I saw two girls standing at the south temple trax stop and thought about the time Jenna and I stood there and a man got into a car accident as he yelled profane things at us out his window. I drove past the house where Nathan and I had our first date and then drove 4 blocks east past the house we fell in love in. If I had wanted to, only 7  blocks to the south would have taken me to the apartments where Nathan lived right before he left on his mission, near the apartments I moved to after I graduated from college and moved to the city to find a job and to wait for Nathan to come home. There isn't an inch in the city that doesn't hold some kind of memory for me. My heart was broken soon after moving here at 18-years-old, it was broken as I said goodbye to Nathan here at 21, it was broken as I moved back here torn between my past and my maybe-future at 23, and it's broken as I live here now at 25. I feel connected to this city in a way that would probably sound so weird to others. I have had a lot of pain as I lived here, but it's also where I have learned my greatest lessons and felt the most love. One day, I know I will get to bring more babies to Earth. I'll probably have some of them in the hospital right up the road. But I will bring all of them back here and I tell them about my broken hearts, and I'll tell them how I eventually got over them. And I'll pray every night that no matter what city their heart's are broken in, that they can move forward to one day teach their babies to do the same thing.