Survivor guilt

I can't imagine Carla's pain. How much she must miss her baby. How the future she envisioned with three sons is shattered. How she must continue to be a mother for her other children while going though something so hard.

And it is affecting me. Initially it was shocking and scary. I wouldn't let Emma out of my sight. She'd sleep in the same room as me. I'd check her many, many times in the night. I'd cry as I nursed her in the middle of the night. I'd examine her body, listen to her breath for any sign of trouble or underlying disease that had not be diagnosed yet.

Then it made me feel incredibly grateful for my children, my life. I'd hug them close, give them another bedtime story. Sing to them more. Hold and rock Emma, long after she had fallen asleep, scared to let her go in case something happened. Holding onto a moment as long as possible.

But now I have guilt. As Carla struggles, finding it harder each day to go on, I have survivor guilt. I have three kids. She doesn't. I have my infant sleeping in the next room. She doesn't.

I know logically that our situations have nothing to do with each other. That my life had nothing to do with her tragedy in losing Owen. But yet, I sit here, I can not sleep. I have a terrible feeling inside--I have what Carla so desperately misses. It makes me feel terrible for them.