25 Things About Me (Bereavement Version)

So, I keep seeing these Facebook "25 things about me" posts on Facebook, and I've been tagged a couple times, but I don't think I can participate, because all I can come up with belongs to the "Bereavement Version."

1. I am the mother of Caitlin Anne, who lives in heaven.
2. I am still not a member of the mommy's club, because others can't see the baby I parent.
3. I continue to struggle with the hope for parenting a living child.
4. I don't like it when people say "I know how you feel," when they didn't wait for me to finish my sentence to begin with.
5. The day after my daughter died, an acquaintance noticed my appearance and asked what was wrong. I told her and she replied, "I know how you feel, I'm dealing with our dog dying right now." True story.
6. I am still unable to walk by myself, because of my overwhelming fear that I may break down and melt into a puddle of grief and be rendered lifeless. I am afraid of the thoughts that will most surely flow through the meditative act of "one foot in front of the other" activity.
7. My DH loves me. I know he does, because he hugs me everyday, tells me he loves me everyday, makes me coffee, and looks at me---really looks at me and smiles at what he sees.
8. 11 is an important number for me, because it's the number of weeks Caitlin was alive. I have 11 pink silk flowers in my house and we released 11 pink and white balloons on the anniversary of her death.
9. I love babies. I'm not afraid of them, rather I'm drawn to them.
10. I don't love it when I hear pregnant moms happily complain about their discomfort int he later weeks of their pregnancy. I genuinely don't care about their complaints, but it triggers my own thought process of wishing and believing that if Caitlin had stayed safely inside for 7 more weeks as she was supposed to, she would still be here today.
11. I don't care that it makes people uncomfortable when I say, "Yes, I have a child. She lives in heaven." They asked a family question and I gave the truthful family answer. I'm not going to be silent about my child's life to avoid the moments of awkwardness they might feel.
12. I grieve everyday. I understand forever.
13. I'm not angry with God. I don't think He had anything to do with it.
14. When mothers say they would do anything to save their children. I believe them.
15. I sometimes enter "magic land" and think, "you know if people would just stop praying for winning a game and getting a A on a paper, bereaved mommy's prayers of BRING MY CHILD BACK TO LIFE, might get through to God."
16. Caitlin was a tiny beautiful child and she loved her songs and I loved singing to her. It was very hard to sing after she died.
17. I laugh louder than I did before Caitlin died. Not because I'm happier, but when I'm happy now that emotion is relation to the degree of sadness I feel now.
18. I have a white stand alone closet where all of Caitlin's toys, cloths, books, sympathy cards, photos, and memory box are kept. I call it Caitlin's closet.
19. My mother has a memory garden in her house for Caitlin.

20. My sister made a memory necklace with stones for Caitlin's mom and pink stones for Caitlin.

21. I want to learn to play the cello. When I do practice, I sit in the room where Caitlin's closet is and we keep the cello music in one of the closet drawers. I think Caitlin would like me to learn to play the cello, too.
22. We knew prenatally that Caitlin had Down Syndrome. I don't like to talk about it, because this diagnosis felt like a death sentence for what we wanted for our child, and then, tragically, it turned out to be so. She died because she was born prematurely (common for babies with DS), had a heart defect (common for babies with DS), and died from a perforated bowel (babies with DS are more likely to have developmental problems with the digestive tract).
23. Despite all my classical music training, I listen to country music. I love Martina McBride's lyric "love's the only house big enough for all the pain the world."
24. Caitlin's grave is a 10 minute drive from my house, and when I go there I feel traumatized by her death and elated by her life at the same time.
25. I'm tired.