Time

I know there will never be enough time to heal my heart.  There will never be a day that I don't think of my beautiful son and long to hold him just one more time.  There will never be a day that I don't wish that something had been different.  There will never, ever be enough time.

I want to tell my story, to tell all of it and to let the world know how I feel.  Yet, at the same time I don;t want to seem whiny and irrational, like a child trying to get attention.  I want to talk about how it feels knowing that no one else, not even my husband understands how I feel, just as I don't understand how he feels.  I want to shout to the world how rudely I was treated by my doctor, and how wrong I feel it is the way I am treated by my work.  

Why do I realize that it is birth, why can't they?  Why is maternity leave only for those who have a living baby?  Why am I expected to return to work less than three weeks after I delivered my child into this world?  Because I didn't take him home?  Because he didn't breath?  Because his little heart stopped beating at 24 weeks?  My pain is still real.  I still feel the effects of giving birth, and I still need time.  I need all the time in the world, and I will never ever get it.