Yesterday or thereabouts the bean would have turned two. There would be toilet training and tantrums. Instead there just isn't. On days like today the giant pile of what isn't weighs me down. I have hit a wall. I live my life normally most of the time, but every once in a while, like now, I am laid low by grief and it is so hard to get up. And it doesn't seem to get better. I am still vulnerable. Like a tiny car broken down in the middle of the intersection, I'm still easily broadsided by the pregnant woman in the library or the newborn baby sleeping in it's car seat in front of me in the check out line. Isn't time supposed to make this all go away? It isn't ever going to go away, is it.
Oh crap.
I understand this post. It could be my own. I imagine getting a first grader ready for the adventures that lay ahead...but I'm not. Somedays it's just hard!
ReplyDeleteHang in there and remember you have friends who walk with you. Somehow that is comforting.
Sending a hug because I suspect that, no, it never completely goes away.
ReplyDeleteIs it wrong to say -- despite the contents of this post -- that I smiled seeing your blog pop up in my feed reader after so long?
Glad to see you posting again. It's been too long.
ReplyDeleteI also have flashes of what could have been. The due dates that are missed and the milestones for where they would have been developmentally. It never goes away, but I'm finding that as peace comes to my heart, the pain is less sharp and all-consuming. Hang in there. Healing is not as easy as many would like us to imagine.
I feel for you Chick. I have my one and only now and will most likely still mourn all the others that I too have lost.
ReplyDeleteI don't think it will ever go away. I was thinking last week, if we'd managed to make a baby when we started trying, that baby would be at school now.
ReplyDeletehugs
We never forget, and we never want to forget. But it does change, and become easier to bear. Even, dare I say it, "easy to bear" in fact. Yes, I look at my 11 year old great-nephew (his mother and I were pregnant at the same time) and know that my child would have been that age, have those interests, make those jokes etc. I look at my 13 year old niece, and know that my first child would have played with her when they visited, that they'd forever be cousins. But the pain isn't there any more. Not in the same way. And so my memories now are fond; I remember with love. Not pain.
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