Sep 27, 2013

The Universe and Hobbes

I have been trying to write a blog post all week. There are so many thoughts and emotions tangled together in my mind, every time I get started I don't seem able to put down a coherent or cohesive text.

The service we had for Calvin felt good. We had our immediate family together in a small chapel with a few meaningful songs and comforting words spoken. I know that he didn't need any of it to be welcomed into heaven, but it sure brought some peace to my heart and soul. In fact, it felt oddly refreshing to cry together as a family.

It is still not easy, though. I think there is something to my thought last week of never healing but just feeling less broken. Or maybe you do heal, but it's like a scar where the injury itself is healed but the area is never the same. The skin is more sensitive and a reminder of the pain.

I don't know. Just a thought.

Yesterday at Paige's dance class I overheard a cute little pregnant woman mention that she had six weeks left. Masochist that I seem to be, I immediately checked the calendar to confirm that yes, she is due the same week I was with Calvin. When I got home Adam informed me that a coworker of his is adopting a baby that was born on August 17, the day I delivered Calvin. These things, they sting. It hurts, not because of what they have, but because of what we don't have.

Sometimes I wonder if the universe is trying to tell us that we weren't mean to have three children here on earth. Sorry guys, three's just too much for you, so STOP TRYING. I know it's more than a little ridiculous, this thought, but it still creeps into the corners of my mind sometimes.

Anyway, we're all doing okay, I guess. Taking one day at a time...every day.

And yesterday we got a package from a friend who made a Hobbes for our Calvin. Because every Calvin needs a Hobbes.

Happy Weekend.

xoxo christine

1 comment:

  1. Two months after I lost Rocco, I went on a Girls' Weekend with a few friends. I needed to escape and wanted to forget that I was the woman whose baby died. No such luck. We went on a cruise and sitting at our table was a woman that was 22 weeks pregnant. The exact same amount of weeks I was when Rocco died. I could not escape and it was torture. "Less broken." I like that. My experience is just that and also the scar feeling is accurate. The extreme pain isn't there anymore but I'm forever changed and it is more a reminder of the pain.


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