Today, we have been celebrating Abby's second birthday. Tomorrow will mark one month since we first held Aaron in our arms. This weekend, we are having Abby's party with family and friends. Tonight, all I can do is cry.
I know that each of the little milestones that you would normally associate with having a baby will be difficult - each new month, each birthday. So I have been expecting a struggle as his one month "angelversary" came up. I guess I wasn't expecting how quickly it would sneak up and surprise me.
Honestly, if you had asked me a week ago about how we were doing I really could have said that we were doing pretty well and actually meant it. I know that part of that is because we do truly believe that Aaron is at rest and we have been so very comforted by the love, prayers and overwhelming support we have received. Part of it is because we have been staying busy and don't have a lot of time to lay under the covers and mope. And part of it is a tiny bit of avoidance I think...I don't mean that we avoid thinking or talking about Aaron because his name is heard multiple times every single day in our house. But I do think that we make a pretty conscious effort to keep the grief at bay most of the time because if we let it all in at once, we would simply be drowning in it. It's almost like our minds know that it is too much to handle all at once, so we work at balancing a "normal" life while still processing little bits of our grief at a time.
Right now, that means the balance has tipped a bit in grief's favor and we're struggling a little. We are so excited to celebrate Abby's birthday and it is such an incredible blessing to be able to watch her with icing all over her face because she dove headfirst into her cupcake. But it is impossible not to feel the sadness of knowing that our son will never get those moments with us. It is impossible not to think about the fact that I gave birth to her brother a month ago and there will be no baby for friends and family to pass around at her party this weekend. It is impossible not to get overwhelmed a little bit when the reality of his absence presents itself so firmly in front of me.
For me, letting the grief in bit by bit is the only way that I will make it through each day. I am always aware of the fact that I miss him, but most of the time it is more like a constant background music. Then there are days where it becomes this blaring cacophony that I can't step away from until it has decided to quiet down on its own; there is no volume button. I do believe that those deafening moments will probably lessen in frequency, and hopefully in volume, as time goes on, but right now it's so loud that it's all I can hear.
No comments:
Post a Comment