Sunday, July 11, 2010

here we are again

Sunday nights used to be my I dread them. Austin has pretty much always worked on Sunday nights since he's in the restaurant biz. Years ago, when we first got married, Sunday nights were my guaranteed time to be by myself. Not that I don't enjoy his was just MY time. Now, Sundays have morphed into this uncomfortable void where I realize all that I don't have. What I should be doing at almost 30. I should be getting kids ready for the week...making food, cleaning rooms, keeping our family in order. But I don't have any of that to do. I am just here, just me. Sure, I keep myself busy, getting our laundry done and grocery shopping. But its just for us, no one else. I feel so left behind.

I'm kicking the idea around of going to see a therapist. I think I need a little help dealing right now. The roller coaster is wearing me down. I do have moments of real happiness (though its happiness-post losing Andrew so its most assuredly a different happiness than before) but I always come crashing down hard on the other end. I get mad that I have to look so hard for contentment among the rubble that is this life we have recreated. I don't know though...what could a therapist help me discover that I haven't already on my own? I don't know how someone who hasn't experienced this void and pain could help me deal. I only mention the therapist because I feel myself getting more bitter and less hopeful with each passing day. I'm uber preoccupied with getting pregnant, but for some reason, I am not doing what Dr. Dulaney told me to do to help the process along. Why the self-sabotage? Anyway, I'm reasonably worried about my sanity enough to at least check out a therapist once my insurance kicks in.

Wow, I know I must sound schizophrenic. Last night, I was happy and hopeful and today I am pissy, weepy and bitter. But, as all of the babylost mommas know, such is life without your kiddo. But, very soon, Austin will be home and things will feel a little more right. We'll watch the end of Harry Potter and fall asleep. And in the morning, I'm sure I'll feel a little better.

Saturday, July 10, 2010

one of those days

It's been one of those of those rare days when I feel truly happy. I felt like my boy was looking down on me all day with pride and love for the woman I am trying so hard to be. My parents came up today to ride bikes with Austin and I. I am trying to start riding with Austin. He really loves it and wants me to go with him so we can enjoy it together. He and my Dad rode 40 miles and Momma and I rode 10. We took a much more leisurely route than boys and had such a nice time watching the scenery and talking about sweet Andrew. Its so nice to be able to so freely talk about my son...I felt so connected to him this morning.

I guess the real reason I feel so hopeful today is because I FINALLY started my period. Its really the first since I had Andrew so its definitely a welcome sight. I WORK! It just feels like one step closer to being able to give my Andrew a little brother or sister. Hope is such a foreign emotion to me these days. Most days it is a hard thing to wrap my head around...that good things will happen for us.

So, my sweet boy...your momma is happy tonight. I want you to know that I want to live life as fully as I know how. I may not always do such a fab job at it, but I'm trying. And days like today keep me trucking on along. Night night precious boo. Momma loves.

Friday, July 2, 2010

Andrew's Room

A few days ago I was cleaning the kitchen and I had a really strange desire to go into Andrew's room. I've kept it pretty much the same with a few additions. I added the prayer flag Corinne and the kids made for him on his 6 month birthday. His memory box is on the dresser. His quilt is on the changing table with his "feet" and his birth certificate. Basically the things I love on to make me feel closer to him again. I keep his room open and warm...I usually open his blinds in the morning and close them in the evening. I turn his little lamp on some nights when I want it to feel warmer. Its a peaceful place where I sit and cry for my boy. The other day, I hugged the little quilt my friends and family made for him on my blessingway...I wrapped this same quilt around him when he was dying. I cried all over it, but felt so wonderfully close to him at the same time. I am so thankful that I remembered to have Kent bring it with him to the hospital. I pray that Andrew felt all the love and warmth that went into that quilt just for him. I wonder if I'll ever use the quilt for my other children. Is that strange? Probably so. I went through all of his drawers pulling out the outfits that were sentimental in some way. The first little top I bought him at a garage sale when I still didn't know he was a him. The sweet little gown that Elise wore when she was only a day or so old that she so sweetly passed on to little Andrew. His little swimming trunks he was supposed to wear this weekend. A fully stocked little nursery for a boy who isn't here.

I sat in the glider looking at his scrapbook and cried for a long while. I've been pretty preoccupied with getting or not getting pregnant lately. I started thinking how, even if I do get pregnant again, this will never be okay. I'll always be this sad and empty in the Andrew corner of my heart. Oh, I'm not saying I won't ever be happy, but this part of my life will always be desperately incomplete and sad. I don't know if I'll ever hold another child, even if it's my own, without wondering and missing. I get so angry that THIS is the rest of my life.

Andrew, I miss you kiddo. You are my whole heart and, for that, I am grateful.