The Crazy

The crazy is starting to come back full force. Mother's Day is Sunday, and again, I ask uselessly, "can we just skip it?" I have to work, and it'll be busy. It'll keep my mind occupied, but not my heart. I hate Mother's Day. I hate the month of May. Now, we're going to have another baby in the family. My sister is scheduled for induction today, and sometime within the next 24 hours, I'll be an Aunt again.
The anger I feel about this pregnancy is obscene. Why is it she's allowed to have 2 healthy children, and I'm not. Why is it, that my sister, who just can't happen to keep her legs closed, gets to have BOTH her babies. I've been through this so many times, and every time, I never come up with an answer. I can't keep doing this to myself, yet I can't stop. I am jealous of the fact that my sister, who has not chosen to have a family, who makes the worst choices out there, gets to have both of them.
It's just not fair! IT'S NOT FAIR! I can't say it enough. I know there's nothing I can do about it. I can't stop being angry. There's no way I can vent this. My husband acts differently. I think that he tries to be "strong" for me, and I know inside there are moments when he feels it too.
I see her name everywhere. In movies, and on TV, when I go to the card stores, and all that personalized stuff. I get Alstromeria at work, and it's color is "Audrey", cherry white. I can't. I just can't take it. I was talking outside with a lady at work last week, and we were discussing funeral flowers. She seemed to think I'd get orders for Wreaths for Mother's Day. I didn't, but we eventually got to talking about what was picked for her mothers own funeral, and I tried to talk about Audrey's, and she wouldn't let me. She kept interrupting me. It seems like everyone keeps doing that. Like every one's done hearing about her, or something. I don't know who to talk to about her anymore. So, here's where I'll do it.
The pain will never go away completely, but it does lessen at times. This time of year is especially hard for me, and it makes me bitter and angry to see people with little girls around the age she was when she died. I'm angry with my sister because she doesn't understand what she will have. I'm angry with my mother and father because they don't speak of her anymore. I'm angry with my husband because of the way he looks at me when I get like this. I'm hurt that my son doesn't really remember his big sister. I'm sad that nobody will let me talk about her. I feel foolish for still wanting to grieve. I feel like society has put a time limit on how long I can miss her, and ache for her. I feel like I'm being judged solely on the fact that I lost a child. I still don't know how to answer the question, "how many children do you have?" when I'm asked. When I answer honestly, I see it in their face. That look, pity, shame, and complete lack of understanding. Then they walk away with an "I'm sorry". I can't make friends because either they have kids the same age Audrey was, or because they don't have children themselves. I'm stagnating, and I can't change it. I want to be a better parent, and a better wife. Eventually I will get there. I hope.
I never want to forget what she looked like in the morning before I brushed her hair, or put her socks on. How her hands were beautiful, like a piano players. She hated sitting in her wheelchair, but loved to lay on the floor in the living room. I look at our house here, and I see the spot I would've put the blanket down. She couldn't see the TV, but she could hear it. I want to be able to live my life without forgetting her, but every time I try to be that way, I feel like I am forcefully reminded that I shouldn't. Like grief is shameful, and something that should be hidden away, and only taken out when nobody can see.
I miss her so much. I love her so much.