I don't want to do this. I don't want to find a way to live with this. I don't want to find a new normal. I don't want to find peace with this and go on with my life.
It's too much. It's too much to ask of me and it's too big.
I will go on, of course. I am the survivor, the strong one. I've done it before on a smaller scale and if nothing else, I will exist until life happens again of its own accord (so you needn't fear I'm on the edge of throwing myself off a building or swallowing the bottle of ibuprofen).
I just don't want to.
I'm going home tomorrow. My mom has to leave and I can't stay here with just myself. DH offered to get time off from work - and he is - but I can't do it. I'm not ready to be by myself with just us. So we're going home. Where it is safe from places I went while I was pregnant and places that have baby stuff and infants who lived. A place where I can just exist for awhile with no real demands on me. And then we'll come home and start to put it back together, I guess.
I just want to find a dark cave and crawl in there with a pillow and blanket and stay there forever.