...during those short, few and far between times when I am not heavy with sorrow. It may be minutes, hours, or the majority of a day that I feel "okay" and I have realized how important it is to really accept those moments in order to build enough strength to weather through the storm that I know is just around the corner. It is hard never knowing when my grief is going to hit and how strong it will be in that moment. Sometimes, I may shed just a tear or two and other times I am knocked over by depths and the rapidness of my pain. I was mistaken when I thought that with time this pain would become lighter. It sometimes seems the exact opposite. It's like the veil has been lifted and I cannot hide from this reality that has become my life.
I have never been much of a daydreamer and in the first month this helped save me as I didn't try and picture what I would be doing at any given moment if I had Silas with me, as was the plan. Now, I can't seem to stop thinking about it. I am constantly thinking about and daydreaming about what my life "should" look like right now. I was at a museum the other day and kept thinking my baby boy should be in a carrier right now strapped to my chest. At the beach, I cried thinking about how Silas should be in my arms watching his daddy surf with me. I imagine being able to caress his little chubby cheeks, kiss his forehead, play with him on the carpet and tickle his belly, show him off to everyone I see. And, I don't just imagine the good, I would be so happy to have to be up all night trying to soothe his cries, change his gross, messy poopy diapers, to be exhausted from all that it takes to be a mom. But, no I sit in an empty quiet house. I walk around like a zombie, absentmindedly going through the motions of my life with no care or desire to do so. This life is nothing without my baby. And, it is overwhelming difficult to be me right now with such pain, loneliness, and emptiness.
So, in those short moments when I feel "okay", I take a breath and prepare myself