I know it won’t be like this the whole nine months (or at least I don’t think so) but I can’t feel grief right now. I can hardly feel that part of my heart at all. I guess I am so focused on 1. being so tired to do anything these days (once upon a time I was a night owl) and 2. constantly trying to do everything ‘right’, I don’t want to lose this baby. I think of Jenna everyday, just as often. I haven’t forgotten her. But that sadness, I think it is just on hold.
I have the rest of my life to feel that pain don’t I? I think my mind/body/heart must be in survival mode.
With Bubby it had only been five months or so, and quite literally I had to push myself out of this hole of grief. It was extremely hard to say the least. It felt like betrayal, and it still does. Something about being sad and being able to let the tears fall about the loss (as infrequent as that may be after three years) makes me feel closer to her.
It feels like betrayal.
But on the way home I discovered something that deep down inside I already knew.
It seems like all the important conversations happen in the car. We were having a conversation about baby names. We decided we won’t be sharing the name of the baby until he/she gets here. We will be finding out and sharing the sex of the baby though. Anyway, as Pete was rattling off ideas for boy names (I’m sorry, but boy names are HARD!), I listened. But as I listened my eyes were fixed on the gorgeous sunset we were driving right into. There was so much pink reflection on the indigo clouds. I don’t know how she entered our conversation, I think Pete mentioned how beautiful the sky looked. For him to notice, you know it was a good one. I told him the pink skies means she must be painting tonight. It hit me right then, that she is as much a part of our world as ever. I might not get the chance to sit by her bedside and feel her tiny, tiny hand wrapped around my giant finger, or gain that closeness in tears at her loss, but there are moments… and she will visit again.
I am sure of it.