Found this this is my normal

From the heart of a bereaved Mother... This is now what 'normal'
is...

Normal is having tears waiting behind every smile when you realize
someone important is missing from all the important events in your
family's life.

Normal for me is trying to decide what to take to the cemetery for
Birthdays Christmas, Thanksgiving, New Years, Valentine's Day, July
4th and Easter.

Normal is feeling like you know how to act and are more comfortable
with a funeral than a wedding or birthday party...yet feeling a stab
of pain in your heart when you smell the flowers and see the casket.

Normal is feeling like you can't sit another minute without getting
up and screaming, because you just don't like to sit through
anything.

Normal is not sleeping very well because a thousand what if's & why
didn't I's go through your head constantly.

Normal is reliving that day continuously through your eyes and mind,
holding your head to make it go away.

Normal is having the TV on the minute I walk into the house to have
noise, because the silence is deafening.

Normal is staring at every baby who looks like she is my baby's age.
And then thinking of the age they would be now and not being able to
imagine it. Then wondering why it is even important to imagine it,
because it will never happen.

Normal is every happy event in my life always being backed up with
sadness lurking close behind, because of the hole in my heart.

Normal is telling the story of your child's death as if it were an
everyday, commonplace activity, and then seeing the horror in
someone's eyes at how awful it sounds. And yet realizing it has
become a part of my 'normal'.

Normal is each year coming up with the difficult task of how to honor
your child's memory and their birthday and survive these days. And
trying to find the balloon or flag that fit's the occasion. Happy
Birthday? Not really.

Normal is my heart warming and yet sinking at the sight of something
special my baby loved. Thinking how she would love it, but how she is
not here to enjoy it.

Normal is having some people afraid to mention my babies.

Normal is making sure that others remember them.

Normal is after the funeral is over everyone else goes on with their
lives, but we continue to grieve our loss forever.

Normal is weeks, months, and years after the initial shock, the
grieving gets worse sometimes, not better.

Normal is not listening to people compare anything in their life to
this loss, unless they too have lost a child. NOTHING. Even if your
child is in the remotest part of the earth away from you - it doesn't
compare. Losing a parent is horrible, but having to bury your own
child is unnatural.

Normal is taking pills, and trying not to cry all day, because I know
my mental health depends on it.

Normal is realizing I do cry everyday.

Normal is disliking jokes about death or funerals, bodies being
referred to as cadavers, when you know they were once someone's loved
one.

Normal is being impatient with everything and everyone, but someone
stricken with grief over the loss of your child.

Normal is sitting at the computer crying, sharing how you feel with
chat buddies who have also lost a child.

Normal is feeling a common bond with friends on the computer in
England, Australia, Canada, the Netherlands and all over the USA, but
yet never having met any of them face to face.

Normal is a new friendship with another grieving mother, talking and
crying together over our children and our new lives.

Normal is not listening to people make excuses for God. 'God may have
done this because...' I love God, I know that my baby is in heaven,
but hearing people trying to think up excuses as to why healthy
babies were taken from this earth is not appreciated and makes
absolutely no sense to this grieving mother.

Normal is being too tired to care if you paid the bills, cleaned the
house, did laundry or if there is any food.

Normal is wondering this time whether you are going to say you have
two children or one, because you will never see this person again and
it is not worth explaining that my baby is in heaven. And yet when
you say you have 1 child to avoid that problem, you feel horrible as
if you have betrayed your baby.

Normal is avoiding McDonald's and Burger King playgrounds because of
small, happy children that break your heart when you see them.

Normal is asking God why he took your child's life instead of yours
and asking if there even is a God.

Normal is knowing I will never get over this loss, in a day or a
million years.

And last of all, Normal is hiding all the things that have
become 'normal' for you to feel, so that everyone around u thinks your normal