Still?

My son was stillborn. He died before he drew breath. It's been almost four years since I felt him kicking inside me. And today a photo of a sleeping baby boy with a teddy bear left me sobbing in grief.

Still.

 My sweet niece had a baby this week. A precious boy. But when I saw him with his teddy bear

All I could see was this

Sneaky bugger

Theron's fourth birthday is sneaking up on me. and I'm done pretending his birthday isn't when it was. His birthday is August 22. Just because he died August 20 doesn't change the day that I finally got to see his face or hold him in my arms. There's a difference between knowing he's in my belly kicking and wiggling and hopefully feeling my love and holding him.

It's just a birthday

My Dad died 3 months before his 60th birthday. I would have done something cool. I had plans actually, we were going halibut fishing for his Birthday. My treat. It would have been epic. Instead, I had friends over and tried to distract myself from remembering that we would never celebrate another of his birthdays together.

Our last salty trip together

 I will never get to call him up and say "hey, you're old, just in case you forgot." Cause I'm nice like that. I also can't call him up and say "my car is making a noise that sounds like "this""  or oh my, Tom's at sea and I don't know how to fix this, tell me what to do. I relied on my dad for a lot of things. And now I'm on my own.

Next week Tom's dad will turn 60. So, his children planned something fun. I wanted nothing to do with it. Thank goodness we didn't have the money, or the time off, to go. It's also the day before our 10th wedding anniversary. But mostly, it hurts too much. I'm glad he still has his father on earth, yay for him. But I hate being reminded I don't.

So, We figured out a way to buy a plan ticket and send him down by himself to spend time with his family.
(Of course, this happened to be the busiest craziest weekend of the year. and here I sit blogging when I should be a)writing a paper b) planning my lesson c) finding the house that I'm sure is lurking around here somewhere under all the trash and clothes and toys and whatever it is that the kids leave everywhere... ie: dishes, laundry, trash, crap, smell, etc.)

So, I didn't have to go to a birthday party and pretend I was happy. And I slept in my own bed all alone last night. It was beautiful. And he got to see his family and be reminded how much he loves the life we have built together. This looks like a win win for everyone.

My heart marks time

It's not really something I can stop. I notice numbers, dates, the passage of time. Sometimes dates sneak right up on me.... But sometimes I see them coming days, weeks, months away.

I miss my dad. I survived the last year. I am still here, fighting and kicking and loving and living. But, I miss my dad. And a  public announcement of that is somehow not the right way to go. So I'm here, hiding on my blog.

I'd like to shout my accomplishment to the world. I did it!! All by myself (well, with help from devoted friends and loving family) I'm finally back in school. I'm getting my health in order. My house is a disaster. But my children are reasonably happy, they know they are loved.

Borrowed time

So much has happened that has been so hard the last few years. If i stop to think about it all i start looking for my rock... And i have yet to build my plotted hidey hole in the attic...
Things are quiet right now. We are in a holding pattern, waiting for the submariner to recover. If his knee doesn't get better... Well I've quit thinking about that too because it is too scary. He does not want to talk about the future, and if i think about it, I'll want to talk about it with my confidant, and he's not available. So, we smile, and wait, and pretend everything is ok.

But, the not knowing, the not talking about things that are too scary, leaves me feeling like I'm living on borrowed time. Like every moment i spend in my home is a lie, because we might lose it.
Every minute i spend with my children is stolen, because i should be doing something else, dishes, laundry, picking up, mopping...
I treasure in my heart the moments the children are happy and laughing and try to permanently imprint them in my brain.