The last few weeks have been just crazy lately. Crazy in good ways and crazy in bad ways too.
Mother’s Day came and went and I’m glad it’s gone. My husband made me breakfast in bed and in bed we mostly stayed.
The next week came my birthday which was just as emotional. I remember being 16 weeks pregnant on my 25th birthday and thinking to myself – ‘By my 26th birthday I will have a baby and I’ll be a mom.’ My husband took a picture of me last year on my birthday. It was a beautiful sunny day and I was wearing a maxi dress and unfortunately you can’t see my baby bump.
This year’s birthday wasn’t bad, but yet wasn’t all that great either. By the time my family left my house, I took a shower and cried all my makeup off. I got out and asked Drew to just hold me because I’d like to cry some more. He just nodded his head and did so. I love that about him. Sometimes I just need to cry without explanations because there generally isn’t one. I just need it. The tears and pain weld inside of me as the days pass on and eventually they make their way to the surface. When they finally come, I can’t help but think – how did my life get like this? How did everything I thought was right and good in the world suddenly change to dark?
Those have been my two really bad days lately. I tell Drew that I use to have entire 24 hour bad days, but now my bad times mostly come in moments. The kind of moments when I see a little boy and wonder what Jonah would look like at that age. Or moments when I see another pregnant woman that I wish so badly that was still me or the quiet moments of emptiness in my big old house.
My bad times don’t consume my entire days anymore, but the pain is still there with every breath, every blink, every smile and every moment that passes by. The pain still lives.