Do you know that you are the first person I tell anything to? Lately you are the only one. I can't get past the thought that if God thought that I didn't deserve to have my baby why would I deserve to have friends or any other pleasures. I try to hide this and imagine that I can relate to others, but really, really right now I feel nothing but alone. I hurt right now, I'm deep down in the pain again. People take the look on my face as hatred, but really it's pain and shame and a shield so that I don't have to try and explain my emotions to those who can't fathom a dead baby. They forget this from day to day, or they just want me to be normal. Every little thing for me goes back to you. The random cry in the store. The nod of flowers in the wind of Memorial Day. The baby woodpecker being fed on the side of the tree by his mother until he braved the feeder himself. The dirty bundle I saw in the road.
The dirty bundle I saw in the road that everyone else let pass as garbage. My mind twisted it into a swaddled tiny newborn left to our mercies. Of course I was too frightened to make sure. I was too cowardly to see a face I had seen before. I still don't know what truly lay within that cloth. Abandoned without a care for who it could have been. We never left you Frost. But my mind tells me all the time that I didn't do enough and that's why I feel and look the way I do. Tortured with regret. I can't fix myself for other people. Sometimes all I want to do is go to you. I wish I could have let myself go crazy after you died and live in a world where a word or a toy could fullfill all of the joys that a baby brings. I wish my imagination could bring you back, but I don't let it because for some reason this isn't acceptable even though it would be nice to have. If I ever do go crazy you'll be the first one I tell.
Night, night Frost
Mama loves you.
