Band of Mothers

I have become a member of a club I would rather not belong to, Mothers who have lost children. None of us wear this badge proudly. We would all gladly give it back. We don't know what to say when you ask us how many children we have. Our answer depends on what day it is. Please don't tell us that, our babies are in a better place, that God knows best, or that everything happens for a reason. Although that may be true, and deep down we may believe that, we are selfish and want our babies to be with US. It is not natural, fair or logical for parents to bury their children. We are to give birth to them, raise them, teach them, nurture them, embarass them when they are teenagers, complain about the cost of prom dresses, and insurance for teenage boys. We are supposed to teach them to drive while pumping our imaginary gas pedal. We are supposed to cry when they graduate high school. We are supposed to cry when we watch them start their own lives with the love of their life. We are supposed to drive them crazy by spoiling our grandchildren. We are supposed to do a lot of things with our children, but we are not supposed to bury them.
We, Mothers who have lost children forget what day it is, until it's Thursday, the same day of the week that our daughter died. We have dreams about our dead child talking to us, when in life they were never able to talk. We are consumed with the need to see them just one more time, until you find yourself getting dressed to go to the cemetary and dig them up. You find yourself thinking that you want to be dead because you know that then you would get to see them again. You can't finish sentences. Your other children ask you when you will stop being sad, and then you feel sad because you are making them sad. When you decide that you want to have another baby, you feel guilty for abandoning your dead child. You lay down on the floor and cry because your husband put her clothes in the washer, and her smell is gone. Someone says her name and it sucks the air out of the room. You look forward to the day when you aren't paralyzed by sadness. You realize that it's noon and you haven't thought about her and you feel sad for not thinking of her.
I have heard from several mothers going through what I'm going through, all of us are at different stages, and while none of our experiences are the same, a lot of what is happening to me happened to them. I am reassured by the fact that what I'm feeling seems to be "normal" I am terrified by the fact that everyone says it just doesn't stop hurting. One wonderful woman I spoke to today said that sometimes it still seems as fresh as when her son died 6 1/2 years ago. I cannot imagine living with this much pain in 6 years or 10 years or 100 years.
I am surrounded by people who would listen to me morning, noon and night. It is very hard for me to talk to anyone, who doesn't have a frame of reference. Telling someone that I think about being dead so that I can see her and hold her and kiss her is bound to make someone think I need to be on suicide watch. That's not it at all. I would never ever do that to my family and friends, and I want very much to live, and see all the wonderful things still in store for me. I just want to be with HER. I just want to see HER. I just want to touch HER. I just want to hold HER.