Letters to Eva

Dear Eva,

Hey Sweet Heart. Miss you like crazy. I’ve been having a really tough few days. Daddy and I got out of town on Friday and came home on Saturday and I’ve been basically crying since we came home. I’m not even sure what triggered this but I’ve not been able to snap out of this funk. On Sunday I basically woke up crying and couldn’t seem to get past it. I’ve got so many thoughts jumbled up in my head and I can’t get them straight. It leaves me feeling defeated and exhausted. It takes so much energy to get up every morning and its worse when my mind is racing when I fall asleep and when I open my eyes in the morning.

I’m feeling so cheated. Robbed. I feel like somebody has been punching me in the gut for 11 months straight now. Just when I think I’m starting to be able to stand tall and make healing steps something comes up and knocks me right back on my behind. I have all these thoughts running through my head about how you’ll never do this, we will never do that, we won’t get to take you there. I don’t understand why your life had to be cut so short. We had so many plans, and hopes, and dreams. You were supposed to get your ears pierced with Mommy and Daddy couldn’t wait to teach you about cars. We were going to travel as a family and we were going to watch you grow up to be whoever you wanted to be. In the blink of an eye that was completely torn away from us. Now I just sit and stew about the things I can’t change. I have to sit back and watch other people’s happiness unfold in front of me and be happy for them. I don’t feel like I even have a future right now, it’s impossible to see past the day in front of me. The fog is still incredibly thick some days.

I just want to feel full. My heart is so broken and empty and that space is impossible to fill. That space leaves me feeling lonely and without purpose. I can seriously feel the missing piece of my heart. The physical pain of loss is real. It’s still so real even this far away from the initial loss. My heart races like the way it did the day you died. I still get tingly numb spots on my legs from the stress. I still feel the tugging in my chest with every single breath I take. I’ve been trying to be more active and keep myself busy and it does help but I also need to learn to be more gentle with myself on the days that I just can’t move. I feel so defeated on those days. There are so many things I’d like to get done in my house and even just the normal stuff piles up. On the days that I have no energy to do the normal stuff let alone the extra stuff I am so hard on myself. I beat myself up and then I sit on the couch and stew again. When I do get up and try to do a few things on those days I get frustrated easily and almost always end up in tears.

I cry so much these days. Like I said the last 3 or 4 have been horrible. My eyes have been sore, scratchy, and blood shot all day today. I had more tears today on the drive to and from work. I feel like all I do is cry. I feel like I’ve cried more these last couple days than I had in months. It also infuriates me because I really don’t know what brought this on. I know that it doesn’t matter but it’s easier for me to process when the tears have a reason. I think maybe it is because I feel silly when I feel like there wasn’t a trigger to the storm of emotions. I know that this is how grief works but I feel so out of control and I hate that feeling. It literally makes me sick to my stomach. So I write. I get the pain out on paper and I feel better. It’s one tiny aspect of my life that I can control. Most of the time I can’t even proof read these because my attention span is way too short. But at least it’s out. Bottling it all up and putting on my “I’m strong, I’m fine” mask doesn’t do me any good and makes my “crashes” way worse. I need to learn that for myself. Feel the pain. Sit with it. Let it wash over you. Get up and carry on. It’s okay to have bad days. It’s okay to not be okay, but you still have to try to be okay.

February 20, 2018 – Second Rituxan Infusion – RUH Saskatoon. We traveled to Saskatoon the day before and spent the night at RMH and prepared for the next day. We were set up in the hospital for the day. IV placed – only about 3 or 4 tries. Only. Blood Work. Infusion started. You tolerated this infusion perfectly. Your platelets were at 10,000! That felt good after weeks of sub 10. It was a really uneventful day at the hospital that day. It was nice to see Grandma again. Even nicer to only have to be at the hospital for one day! We were back at RMH by supper time and just got to have so nice quality Grandma and Mom and Eva time.

I didn’t pull out the ITP Journal tonight so I might be missing a couple things but I just didn’t have the strength tonight. Seeing the happy & excited double digit snap chat pictures today almost broke me again. That sense of hope we had still bothers me. Looking back I feel so naive. I felt like we were beating this disease. I felt confident you were getting better. Then Boom. Blindsided. That is what is most painful for me right now I think. Reliving all the moments of last year that were exactly my worst fucking nightmare coming true and I didn’t even realize it. Hindsight. It sucks. I would have held you tighter and yelled louder about your treatment. I like to think I would have been more patient with you. I like to think I would have been more grateful for every second instead of wishing it was over. That’s what hurts the most. I rushed through those days wishing they were over and you were healthy and didn’t even realize how good I had it. I would have lived in that hospital and would not have let them send us home every week. I find myself thinking that I wasted the last few weeks I had with you. Just rush rush rush. Now I’d give anything to be back in that hospital. Life is cruel. It’s unfair and it’s messy.

I wish we didn’t have to say good bye. I miss you. I want the chance to hold you just for one more second. I want you in my arms. I need you in my arms. I don’t know who I am without you and I don’t want to find out. At least I have your Daddy. He helps me feel whole and he listens to my pain. He is so patient with me. I don’t know how I would do this without your Daddy. He is my second hero. After you that is. I love you to Heaven and back Turkey Bird. You will always be my Turkey Bird. I love You. I miss you. I need you.

Love and Kisses,

Your Mama.