In the end, its Him & I

38. A Step in the Right Direction

I was doing so well, or so I thought...

I sit in the corner of the dark room as I hold my knees to my chest resting my head against the glass of the sliding doors. The forest is wet tonight, the rain pounding against the glass. Thunder rumbles through the atmosphere and the flashing lightning zipped across the night sky in the distance.

The freezing floors created goosebumps over my body.

I watch attentively as the water drips down the cold glass.

I wanted to touch it, to feel the rain sting my skin.

But I couldn't move. I was immobile. Afraid if I moved I'd shatter into a million pieces.

It's been a month and a few weeks since I lost our baby and it still felt like a nightmare. The only thing different was that I couldn't wake up from it.

For the most part, I genuinely thought I was doing better. Grey and I were attached at the hip, we'd argued, cried, and let ourselves be completely vulnerable with one another.

Unfortunately, all good things come to an end.

Just when I began to sleep, eat properly, and just be myself again, the gut-wrenching feeling made her appearance again. Most nights I'd wake up about two hours after I'd fallen asleep, whereas other times I couldn't go to sleep at all.

Grey of course stayed up with me, cuddling and soothing me as I cried even though I begged him not to. I'd wake up screaming and he'd be there every time with love and worry in his eyes as he looked into my restless and perturbed ones.

I was causing him stress and heartache. I saw it. I saw it no matter how much he didn't want me to.

He was scared and that was a foreign feeling to him. He constantly missed important meetings just to make sure I was okay.

And as much as I hated it, I was causing a rift in our family and relationship. It felt like everyone was walking on eggshells around me.

Grey and I were exhausted every day and our features did nothing to hide the fact.

I found it even harder to eat and when I did, I couldn't hold it down for more than 10 minutes.

For the first couple of weeks, I drowned myself in work and in doing so, created four collections all by myself.

Anything to take my mind off of the loss of my baby.

The baby I didn't even know I had the ability to conceive.

But since then, I haven't had a single idea. And even if I did, I couldn't sketch anything because of my trembling hands. There were times I'd sit in bed with the comforter over my head, my iPad in my lap, and just cried when I tried to find inspiration and came up with nothing.

I tried making Xile her favorite meal, but I couldn't even do that. I felt useless and worthless in so many ways as my mind was corrupted with the haunting thoughts of that night, the blood, pain, the horror in Grey's eyes as he tried to keep me awake, and the doctor's words.

I was failing as a mother to Xile. I didn't have the mental capacity to be there for her like I needed to be.

Every time she saw me, she looked on the verge of tears.

It broke my heart that I was causing all of this. I didn't want to. I wished so much for it all to stop. I wanted to be better.

If I couldn't be the perfect mother to Xile, all I've ever done was for nothing.

And that's what killed me most.

Light from the hallway shined into the dark room as the door opened. Dragging myself from my thoughts, I turned my head.