Butterlies.....And my Karley

This isn't what I intended to write about today. But a few minutes ago, I was sitting outside and I looked down to see a butterfly had landed on my knee. It was black & white, rather unusual, it was black with white polka dots on it's wings. I am drawn to butterflies.
They remind me of my daughter.
Last week, my cousin's son to be died. A mere 3 weeks before the due date. So, sometime this week, they will be having a private funeral service for the family.
That makes me remember things I'd like to forget.
Ah, memory lane. Bittersweet. Painful. Exhausting.
Karley Isabella McCorkle. My beautiful baby girl. Too perfect, too good for this world.
December 18, 2006. That's the day that my life changed. Forever.
I was pregnant. 23 or 24 weeks. One morning I woke up with a horrible backache, and a nagging feeling that something was wrong. I thought it would go away, so I took the day off work and stayed in bed. It didn't help. My mom was out of town, visiting her sister. So, that afternoon, my dad got the chore of taking me to the St. Michaels ER. I think I already knew, but my suspicions were confirmed when the ultrasound tech got a strange look on her face and said, 'uhm, let me go get the doctor.' I don't remember much else about that night, except that I was hysterical and they gave me some pain meds and valium through my I.V. I was sent home and told to see my gyno the next day at 10 a.m. I went, was given a pelvic, and told that my daughter was too big to come out on her on and they would induce labor. I was told to return to St. Michaels that night at 9 p.m. As the day continued, my pain only increased. I was actually already in labor then, but I didn't realize it until after the fact. When we got to the hospital that night, they ushered me into a room, gave me a hospital gown, and told me they would induce at 10:30. Well, I was told to stay in bed, but my back was absolutely killing me, so I was up & down, pacing the room. After about 30 minutes, I stood and my water broke. Momma put me back in the bed and went to get the nurse. Within 5 minutes, my Dr. was in there with me, as were 2 nurses. My mom stepped out. I am informed that there is no time for any type of pain medication because the baby is on it's way out, just keep pushing. I really wanted the drugs. I wanted something because it flippin hurt like heck and I had hoped for some morphine to make the memory a little hazy. But no. I remember everything all too well. I'd like to forget. I'm glad I can't. Contradicting, I know. But although the memories are painful, I don't want to forget anything. That was my daughter. I loved her. I felt her do sommersaults in my belly. I endured constant heartburn and all day morning sickness for her. She sure was the most beautiful baby I've ever seen though. Absolutely perfect. So tiny. But mine. On borrowed time.
I have recurring nightmares. 2 versions, but the same situation. I'm in hospital, I've had Karley. For some reason, I leave her alone in my room. When I return, she's gone. I wake up crying. Sometimes I cry myself to sleep. I remember her every day.
This is a very personal subject to me. It's not one I talk about often. But I feel anonymous here. I'm not looking for anybody's pity or sympathy, but I needed to get this off my chest today.
My scar's run deep, those old battle wounds. Jace and Shauntelle's baby dying opened old wounds. They never really do heal, you see. You never understand why. But the sun keeps on rising and setting daily. Life goes on. You learn to live with it. And then something happens that stirs it all up again.
I miss her. I hate when someone mentions her, they say 'the baby.' Damn!!!! Her name was Karley. I also detest the phrase 'lost the baby.' Nooooo......Didn't happen like that. I didn't lose her. I know where she is. When said like that, to me it seems like someone's saying that they misplaced a baby, set it down in WalMart or McDonalds and forgot where you put her/him, or at the playground the child wondered off and was lost/kidnapped.
Ok, ENOUGH!!!! I'm done now. Just needed to get this out. I just feel really uncomfortable talking about this to friends and family. And the father, well, he never really wanted any more kids, he already has 3. And he wasn't there for me. I honestly believe he was relieved more than anything else when this happened. That realization hit hard too. That he didn't call when he knew it happened. That he didn't bother to call in the weeks following, when I got sick and was fighting for my life, and all I wanted was to talk to him, to hear his voice.
Okay, now, I'm really upset. It's time for some mint chocolate chip ice cream and a scary movie.
Thanks for taking the time to read my rant. Just upset over the events that happened recently and have had the too familiar nightmares again lately. I am tired. Stressed. Frustrated. Upset.
That's it for now. I have a great idea for another journal entry. I will have to do more research first. I try to make my journals interesting. I hope you enjoy them. I know this seems to be more of a pity party. And it is. But I am opinionated, and I like debating issues. So, if you are reading this, I'm glad. I hope you continue to. And leave comments. I try to leave comments for those who comment me. I may not always do that immediately, but I always do. Eventually.