I care...most of the time

After my daughter's death, the only thing I cared about was my baby. Even that was sometimes a struggle. Caring for her got me out of bed in the morning, but I would often think that I could easily have someone else raise her and she wouldn't know any different.

For weeks, months, maybe the entire past year, I've told myself that I just need time. A friend told me time would provide a cushion. And it does--the shock and horror are...softened a bit, but they do come back. And in the end, I've still lived through something so horrible I'd never wish it on anyone. And my daughter will never, ever come back.

There have been days when I could barely work. How could work be important? My daughter, who I'd lived for each and every day since before she was born, was gone. Still, I kept working. Mostly for my other daughter and my sanity. It gave me something to focus on, kept my mind from wandering to bad places. It took a lot of effort to care about work, and other things. I had to make myself care about everything from what I ate to washing my hair.

Nowadays, I find myself actually caring. If I'm working on something, I actually want it to turn out well. I started coloring my hair again, because I don't want to look like I don't care.

It takes effort like I can't describe to care about life after losing a child. If you can manage it, or get help in summoning the willpower to do so, caring can help get you through. Finding something, anything to care about to fight through even one more day is like practice--eventually, you will truly care again.