It's been a year. A year since he...

Isabel

My little girl would be nine. When she was born I thought my heart would burst I loved her so much. Her Dad and Grandma were in the room too. He felt the same for her and showed me the tender, loving care he gave her. Her Grandma beamed with pride. She cried as she held her beautiful granddaughter in her arms. They both thanked me for giving birth to her. I cradled my baby girl in my arms, everything was perfect, I thanked God for this experience.

Three hours and forty-five minutes later she took her last breath in my arms. Our hearts were broken. I was there for her first breath and her last. I spent every minute of her life with her. She knew only love and peace. I thanked God for this experience.

Ok, really? Really? What were they thinking?

October Again...

I can't believe she'll be nine this month. As I mourn her father, I haven't been as focused on my baby girl. Not that I don't miss her, I just haven't been drowning in the same waves of grief that seem to come lapping at me every October. Instead, I welcome the familiar waves as I look at the horizon afraid of the next month lurking in the depths of the angry water threatening to overtake me with a tidal wave of grief.

September. For the last eight years September has marked the coming of October. For me that meant the end of naively thinking that a pregnancy that has survived the first trimester equaled a take home baby. It meant the realization that you can go home from the hospital with nothing but a mother's empty, aching arms and a broken heart. After eighteen years of marriage it was our second pregnancy and the only one to survive the first trimester. Sometimes September is harder. I don't know why.

Two years ago with the death of my mother that changed. August was now the beginning of my constant sadness. At least I knew that at the end of October I would feel a renewed hope. I would be one year closer to being with her and holding her in my arms and never letting go. I would have hope because I survived another year of my heart aching so much that I couldn't imagine it beating for another full minute much less an hour or day.

November will be the first year anniversary of my husbands death. I feel like there is no end in sight, no bright light at the end of the tunnel, no silver lining. As I spiral down an endless, dark pit, I wonder if  I'll ever see the light of day again. I will. I know. It just doesn't feel like it right now. I still get through each day by convincing myself that he's not home yet or upstairs or outside. When I think about it too much my heart seems to spring countless leaks and struggles for every beat, it becomes so heavy. So, I wonder...What will November be like?

Rain & Flu

Another day of rain. We need it.

Now that I'm almost better and Little One seems completely better, his sisters all have it. I guess it has to make it's rounds, I just hope I'm not at the end of that round too.