Bleh

I'm in a funk.

I know it....now you know it, too. If, you know, you hadn't already suspected that something was up due to my lack of blogging.

I knew it would happen. It's almost as if I've been waiting on it.

It usually hits me on the ride home from my in-laws house after Thanksgiving. We always have such a wonderful time, and it always goes too quickly. Before you know it, the mini-vacation is over and done, and we are in the car headed back home--a home that is over two hours from our nearest relatives, and almost 10 hours from the others.

I get all teary, and cry for a while about the family that I won't see again for another whole year. My niece and nephew especially, who will be so much older and may not even remember me next time they see me.

It is reminiscent of my younger days, when I was a teenager, and I would get on a plane and leave my Dad and family in New Jersey after a summer visit to come back home to my Mom in Illinois, and knowing that when I saw my brother and sister again, they would be so much different, in so many ways.

Knowing you are losing precious time with people you love.....it's hard.

This year, it's all that.....and more.

This year, when we put the tree up and got all the ornaments out, there wasn't a new first ornament for the tree like there was supposed to have been.

This year, the family ornament that I will buy will only have five people represented, and not six like I thought there was going to be.

This year, when all of our family got together at Thanksgiving, there were only two new babies, instead of the three new ones we all thought there would be last year at this time.

The roller coaster of emotions of hitting this one year mark.....it's just hard for me.

I've been expecting this to hit me, and I've been trying to semi-prepare myself for it, but it didn't really work. I can hide it pretty well, and did so in front of everyone last week (for the most part, anyway). But I just sort of feel like an emotional wreck. I cry for no reason.....one minute I can be okay, the next minute I am dissolved into the 'ugly' cry, and then the very next minute I can be okay again. I just have those moments.

And, by the way, it's not just the 'baby' thing. There are other things, too, that I'm dealing with right now. I am sort-of in the middle of this wrestling match with God. How dumb is that, right? I know HE wins, every time, but my three-year-old mindset still likes to throw the occasional temper tantrum every once in a blue moon. Someday, I hope to move past that.....

No, the baby is not the only thing....but it ranks right up there at the top of the list as the toughest to deal with.

The most wonderful thing I got after we lost our baby last year was this miniature tricycle. My mom gave it to me, instead of flowers--so we would always have something visual to remind us of the baby. It has winter foliage (like pine branches) on it, that are flocked with fake snow, and red holly berries. It also has miniature lights, that Shane hooked up to a small touch-pad light switch. You can touch it and the trike lights up. It is the most beautiful thing, and ever since I got in on December 14th of last year, it has sat in it's special spot in the bookcases Shane built.

I've never told anyone this, not even Shane (although, he certainly will read it later) and I don't even know why I am saying this now, except that I feel like all this 'letting it out' is making me feel somewhat better. The touch-pad on the trike has four levels, and you can adjust how bright you want the lights to shine. It's a really neat feature....but I have, for the last almost 365 days, used those lights as something a bit different.

They are my grief gage.

When I am having a good day, I leave the lights off. Alternatively, when I am having a particularly rough day, I keep the lights all the way up. I turn them on, and every time I walk in the living room, they are ablaze in their special spot. I can't put my finger of why, but seeing that makes me feel a bit better. Like there is a part of my baby that is still here with us.

The lights have been full blast since coming home Sunday night.

I don't anticipate turning them off at all until after the holidays.

It all goes back to the losing precious time with the ones you love aspect.

I got 13 weeks with my baby....that was it. I took for granted that there was going to be so much more than that, but there wasn't. I lost so much precious time that I had anticipated having. All the birthdays, all the holidays, all the fun stuff we were going to do together. And then, all of a sudden, our baby was gone, and now I didn't get any more time.

Wham. Gone. Just like that.

On these hard days, I feel that I was robbed of the greatest gift God ever gives us. Robbed of the good times, the bad times, the traditions, the everything. Just robbed.

Even still a year later, that hurts.

I'm not writing this to make you feel sorry for me. Please, don't. Grief is what it is--and it is different things to different people. You may be reading this and thinking, "Sheesh....it's been a year. Isn't she over this already?" or you may be thinking, "I know exactly how she feels". This is just about what my grief is to me right now, and I just needed to let it out.

I know all of the truths. I know that God is the giver of all life, and He can freely do with that life whatever He so chooses. He gives, and He takes away--and His name is to be praised in either case. I believe that and respect the choice He made for me. I know that that 'reality' of having my baby here for all those moments really wasn't MY reality to begin with--it was never meant to be for me.

I can see all of the good that has come out of what happened, and for everything I have learned, I am so grateful. I believe that now, even hurting as I am, I can truly say--knowing that my God only wants the very best for me, and that He will work out everything that happens to me to be for my greater good--that this was the very best thing for me at this time in my life.

But, there are still hard days--some, like today, very, very hard.

Bleh.