I think that I am at the point in my grieving process that I
forget what my life has turned into for brief moments. Those moments are
usually where I am too focused on something, or there is nothing to trigger a
memory or feelings of loss. The part that I hate about this, though, is that
when those feelings come back and I remember what my life is like now it’s like
those feelings are a knife stabbed into my heart and twisted. Whereas, if I
have some feeling of loss and sadness my entire day when memories or thoughts
of that tragic night or painful existence of my life now, creep in they don’t
feel as terrible and devastating. I have
this picture up on my desktop at work.
When I look at it I think about
that day and how perfect I felt. Corby looooved food. Whenever someone had some
kind of food he was right on their lap wanting a taste too. I had just finished
making my green smoothie and sat down on the couch to drink it when no sooner
did I get a few sips in that this little man was crawling on my lap wanting
some too. I called him my little calorie stealer. Not only was he still nursing
and stealing calories that way, but he was also eating half of what I ate. I
didn’t have a problem with it. I loved to share my food with my baby, and I
enjoyed, more than anything, breast feeding him. He was so cute to watch when I
would feed him. He melted into me and felt so calm and comfortable there. I
knew that my baby felt safe and happy when he was nursing and that made me
happy too. Every once in a while he would look up at me and give me this grin
that would melt my heart. He started getting to the point that he would blow
raspberries and then give the cutest little chuckle after like he knew that he
was soooo funny. I, of course, would play right along with him. I remember a
recent time when he was wearing new dinosaur jammies and he thought they were
so cool. The night before when we put them on him we got all excited and hyped
up his new jammies so he got excited too. We tried to teach him what dinosaurs
would say, but he didn’t want to have anything to do with that. The next
morning when he was nursing I was playing with him and asking him what was on
his jammies. He was too busy eating so I started to tickle him and say
“dinosaurs! RAAAAR! (in a silly voice)” and tickle his little body all the way
up from his little bum to his arm pits. He was laughing so hard and thought
that was so funny. So, naturally, I kept doing it because I loved to hear his
little giggle. I miss that little giggle more than I can describe. It’s a
silence in my soul that will always be there. Sadly, I know that I will never
be O.K. with that, but will learn to live with it. I know it’s a slow process.
I had one woman describe it to me as a process happening at a dyslexic snail’s
pace. Oh how true that is! It’s only been 100 days since I last held my baby in
my arms alive, and it feels like it’s been a lifetime. I hope and pray that I
will be able to continue to get up each new day.
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