Now that October is here there is an increase in the weight on my shoulders with each passing day. As we inch closer to the end of the month, closer to my due date with Calvin, the days are heavy and cloudy.
I tried to explain to my husband last night how I've been feeling -- like everything is tainted. Like every experience has a little bit of dust, a little bit of gray covering it. Like I am viewing the world through a pair of glasses with the wrong prescription. Everything is a little blurry, and my eyes have to work super hard to focus, giving myself a headache, and then they just can't do it anymore and I have to give my eyes a break and close them, until I am strong enough to open them again and start all over.
Except it's not my eyes, it's my heart.
It takes a lot of work and energy to function in a blurry world and so after awhile it catches up to me and I have to give myself a break from being strong. This is grief. And I think it is all part of the normal process. But to anyone who worries, you can rest assured that I am seeing my therapist regularly, so if I do happen to lose my footing, she will be there to help break my fall.
It is hard not to think about what we don't have. That I am not pregnant. That we do not have to get the nursery ready. That I do not need to buy boy baby clothes. That we need nothing baby-related anymore. And even though we have no reason to believe I can't get pregnant again, we have no reason to think we won't be blessed with another baby, I find myself with the attitude that we can't and we won't. That we might as well just get rid of all our baby things now.
I wish that things were different. In so many ways, I wish things were different. I know that I control what is written here, but writing is also reflection for me, and as much as I don't want this place to be gloomy, it feels fake to pretend. I want to be able to focus on the things that bring me joy, because there are many things that bring me joy. But even amongst the joy, my heart is heavy. And so I write what is on my heart, even when, day after day, it is sorrowful.
I love October. I love the fall. But with the new season of crisp air, apples, and sweaters looms the day I should have brought my son into the world - ALIVE. They day we should have met and cried and gazed into each other's eyes saying,
There you are. I know you. I love you.
I miss him.