I hate feeling powerless. I do believe that is human nature. We want to do things. We want to help people. We want to make a difference.

On Easter, Mike, Sophia and I drove to Las Vegas. The next day, we drove to San Diego. My sister, her husband, and their son live there. That evening, we drove to San Clemente, about an hour north, where my brother, sister in law, and their son live. The next day, we all went to Disneyland. The next day, to the beach. The next day, San Diego zoo. But none of those things matter today. (I will get to blogging about that later. I've been avoiding it and it wasn't until the past 2 that days I figured out why.)

I miss my family. I miss them like I can't describe. My sister is my best friend. Her son is Sophia's best friend. Not a day passes that Sophia doesn't ask to go to Aiden's house, or tell me she wants to share her toys/snack/zoo with Aiden. I cried every time she said his name for 2 weeks when we got home. (yes, that means I only stopped crying yesterday). I've been trying not to even think about my family, because they're 900 miles away. I am really good at pretending that if I ignore a problem, it's not a problem. (Unless it's someone else's problem. Think husband and cancer..)

So yesterday the word grief starting dancing in my head. I feel like I am grieving for the life that we don't have. My family lives in California because my brother and my brother in law are Marines. They are stationed there, they work there, and so it falls in line that they live there too. I just haven't accepted it yet. I keep waiting for them to come home. Because my mind is evil and it thinks Utah is home, even though they've lived in California for 4 years. I've spent the past 4 years pouting because they left, and I miss them. And there's not a single thing I can do about it.

I can't lie. If gas was $2.50 a gallon, I would drive to California twice a month. I would drive 12 hours each way just to spend a day with my nephews. That sounds 10x more horrible, because I have 2 nephews that live down the street, that I see less often than that. I guess I explain that away by saying that they are teenagers, and could care less if they see me. But I know they love Sophia (who they do see more often, at my mom's house.) I know this doesn't make a cup of sense. I'm trying to work it out in front of my eyes, instead of behind them. I'm trying to face it, so I can live with it. I explained to Sophia (again) today that we couldn't go to Aiden's house, because Aiden lives far, far away. And I cried. Because I don't know when we will see him again. I don't know when I will get to meet my niece, who will be born in August. It crosses my mind that if I worked more hours, if I got a job that paid a better wage- if I worked all the time, we could afford to visit them again. But how can I make that choice? (the job thing is another thing I will bitch about at a later date.)

Back to the powerlessness. I feel like I can't help any of us. I can't help Wyatt, who spent last week in the hospital. I can't help Aiden, who misses his Sophia. I can't watch the kids and let my sisters and brothers have adult time. And I really can't spend more time in the middle of the night worrying so much about things I can't do.

And, it snowed today.

I have to be honest, Mother's Day this year came and went with not much of anything, good or bad. I had to work all day, and Mike made me breakfast. That was it. Bacon and an 8 hour shift. I received and gave cards, phone calls, texts. But I didn't feel like it was a special day.

And that's okay. I think that since my first MD, just a few short weeks after losing our daughter, it's just a day I'd rather skip over. That may sound harsh, because I am, in fact, a mom. I have been since I heard my Charlotte's heart beating. Since I saw it fluttering at 8 weeks. And, of course, I have a mom. A good mom. A mom who was a much better mom when I was 3 than I am to my 3 year old. I look at pictures of myself and my older sister, and our hair was always done. Our clothes were clean. We ate 3 meals a day (at the table, as a family.) We learned our letters and numbers before we went to kindergarten, and we played outside until it got dark. Don't get me wrong, I am a good mom. Maybe an above-average mom by today's standards. My girl tells me (and total strangers) that we are best friends. She tells me "I love you, mommy," without being prompted. She knows her numbers, to 20. And most of her letters. But she watches more tv than she should, because mommy is on the computer. And her hair is almost never "done." (But lets go ahead and blame that on the fact that she hates to have her hair combed. And okay, I will admit it, I'm crap at hairstyles.)

I think it didn't even occur to me that Mother's Day came and went and is over. And that I ignored it. I don't really dwell on my first MD, when I spent all day literally locked in my bedroom, alone and crying. I was a mom and no one dared call me. I was a mom but I didn't have a baby. I was a mom but no one needed me. My sisters and my mom gave me my beautiful mother's ring. A teeny, tiny gold ring with a dark purple amethyst. What I wouldn't give to find it in a pocket of an old purse..

But I guess my point is, I maybe feel a little bit like I push past this holiday now. I jump over it like a puddle. The other side is safer. The other side is dishes and laundry and Facebook, and not a day when I have to face the missing daughter that I try not to miss so much.

That makes me a liar. I miss her too much already. But then I read a babylost blog, or I talk to someone who visits her son's grave every day. And I feel that I am lacking. That I do not hurt enough. That I am too busy hopping over puddles to notice that my feet are wet anyway.

But sometimes I do notice. It's been raining for 3 days and not a rainbow in sight. Before I lost Charlotte (and really, because we lost Laura,) I never would have noticed. (by the way- did you know that after you lose a baby, your next child is called a "Rainbow Baby"?)

I don't talk about her every day. I don't cry every day. Sometimes I feel like she's already slipped away. That she was a part of a different, past life. That what I have now is everything. It makes me feel like a demon- feeling like I have a good life. How is life good, when you buried your child? When you had to sit at a table and choose a casket to bury the daughter you had been choosing clothing for just a week before. How can anything ever be okay again when you sat in the hospital and let a stranger take your baby away, without taking pictures of her, without dressing her, without seeing her eyes and hearing her cry?

And then Sophia sits next to me on the couch and asks me to read her a book. And that book turns into 3 books. And those books turn into a giggle fest because she called a hamster a lobster. And then it suddenly doesn't matter that I hate mother's day. She is more than a distraction. She is my best friend, my co-conspirator. And then today is just another day on the way to tomorrow.

Mother's Day.

I don't like big crowds of people. I like them even less when Sophia is with me and we are trying to make our way through them. She is so small and so ready to run, and I doubt my ability to keep up with her. So I tell her to stay with me. I tell her not to run too far ahead. But she's 3, and 3 year olds are not great listeners, especially when they are excited. Especially when they are with friends who also like to run. So when we are at the zoo, and it's spring break, and there are 900 other people surrounding us, and no one seems to care if their children are within arms reach, or even within their line of eyesight- I freak out a little. I want to know where my daughter is. I want to know that she's safe. I want to make sure that no one can sneak away with her if I turn my head. I think a crowded day at the zoo would be an ideal place for a kidnapping. Is that crazy? Yes. Is it true? Hell yes. So if I freak out when my daughter, my baby, my world, runs off- let it be. She is mine. She is my responsibility and my joy. I've lost a child already, and although you don't think it's the same thing, and I know it's not the same thing- I am overprotective. I am overbearing. I am a little bit wild when it comes to keeping my girl by my side. Let it be. I will relax when I am at home and she is safely sitting next to me watching Tangled for the 20th time. But do not tell me that I am a bad mom for my choices. Do not act as if my choice to protect my baby is infringing on your fun.

I'm not a good single mom. I don't know how people do it alone. Mike's only gone for a couple of days, and I just want to stay in bed and sleep.

I guess there are several factors at work here. My anxiety is bordering on depression. This is the worst I have felt in over a year. If I hadn't promised Sophia the zoo today, I would have stayed in bed. Or on the couch, so I could pretend I was watching her. Even the drive to the zoo was exhausting for me. I felt like hiding from the sky itself. Once we got there, I perked up enough to watch her run and play, and to laugh with her, and to protect her from the attacking turkeys. I think as long as I have something to focus on, I don't get too strangled by myself. Being at work for 11 hours keeps me busy enough that I can't think about how much I hate working full time. But as soon as I leave, I want to crawl into a hole and never go back. Sophia asked me if I live at work now. She cries if it's Mike's turn to put her to bed. She asks me to snuggle her 10x a day (But can only sit still for about 2 minutes of snuggle time.) She hates it, too. And when I'm home, I'm tired. I'm cranky. I'm sad.

So last night I decided it wasn't working for me anymore. I pulled out my Celexa and I took 1/2 a dose. I'll work my way up again. I want to sleep at night. I want to spend time with my family without being distracted by my crazy. I want to enjoy spring and summer without being exhausted by life.

Like I said, I know that a variety of things helped to bury me this week. Mike's uncle Howie passed away and Sophia and I couldn't make it to the funeral. Even being thousands of miles away, I can feel the loss. I am grieving for his wife, and his kids, and his grandkids. I am at a loss for words at how desperate they must feel. He was a good man, and he will be missed.

Kelly Clarkson Sober (video)

I heard this song 3 months after we lost her. I had just found out we were going to have Sophia. I knew it would either save me or kill me. "Been a long road since those hands I left my tears in. But I know it's never really over."

March 22, 2007 was the third day of Spring. It was my due date with Charlotte. It was the night I instead went to dinner with my friends, the first time other than the funeral (and the casket-purchasing trip) that I had gone out of the house.

Tonight I turned on my iPod so I could use it while I walked on the treadmill. I decided to revisit my old playlists (I don't use my iPod much anymore.) Of course I decided I had to listen to some of Charlotte's songs. Her playlist is called "My Little Star". These are her songs.

1. Charlotte Sometimes- The Cure 2. Thinking about You- Norah Jones 3. Somewhere Over The Rainbow- Isreal Kamakawiwo'ole 4. 1,000 Oceans- Tori Amos 5. Love You Lately- Daniel Powter 6. Hear You Me- Jimmy Eat World 7. Starlight- Muse 8. Hello, I Love You- The Doors 9. Slipped Away- Avril Lavigne 10. Sober- Kelly Clarkson 11. I Don't Wanna Talk About It- Indigo Girls 12. I Grieve- Pete Gabriel 13. Overkill- Colin Hay (acoustic version) 14. God Only Knows- The Beach Boys 15. One Sweet Day- Mariah Carey+ Boyz II Men 17. Fireflies- Faith Hill 18. Better Together- Jack Johnson 19. Sexyback- Justin Timberlake 20. Brown Eyed Girl-Van Morrison 21. The Prayer- Josh Groban and Charlotte Church 22. Playboy Mommy- Tori Amos 23. Maps- The Yeah Yeah Yeahs 24. Far Away- Nickelback 25. Who You'd Be Today- Kenny Chesney 26. Angel Mine- Cowboy Junkies 27. Adia- Sarah McLachlan 28. Move Along- The All-American Rejects 29. For Good (from Wicked)

Obviously, there are a couple of strange choices. But they all have a story, or an obvious meaning. I don't know if I've ever told anyone the story behind Starlight. You'd think it's clear, but there is a story. I just don't want to talk about it tonight. One of the darker days of After. And one of the few I remember clearly.

Today I noticed a purple crocus in my front yard. I don't know how long it's been there. I don't remember it being there last year. It's droopy and sad because it snowed again last night. But it's there.