Monday, September 26, 2016

8 weeks...

It's been eight weeks now.

Today is Peter's birthday and I can't help but struggle today.  He was suppose to turn 2 and then a few months later have a baby to hold.  Peter and Penny were suppose to be just over 2 years apart.  I had all these ideals of what it would be like for them growing up close like Ada and Rue.  I was suppose to be getting clothes out and getting ready.  I'd be starting to get uncomfortable and big.  But...I'm not.  Peter loves babies but will not have one to hold.  I'm packing up clothes that the kids have outgrown instead of getting things out.  I'm back working out regularly and very much wanting to get ride of my little bump I had, but instead I just keep gaining weight.  No matter how hard I work and try to eat even better, I can't get the weight gone and I still look like I'm early pregnant (even the kids ask why my tummy is still big).  I celebrate this day for my little boy, but it also breaks my heart.  Now he is (still) the baby.  I hate to have him grow up and I hate that he will soon be even less of a baby.  He is a little boy now.  He runs and climbs.   He LOVES to jump (especially on the trampoline, but also even while walking).  He loves to dance to music and chase his sisters.  LaRue and he have a special friendship...Peter teases and Rue cries.  For some reason Peter LOVES to lay on or climb on Rue.  He has only 10 teeth, two barely poking in and 4 missing.  He doesn't talk much his words mostly consist of: yes, no, dog, sugar, mommy, daddy, Ada, cracker, cookie, beep-beep and CAR (his favorite word and toy).  He makes other "sounds" that I can often translate, but that's about it.  He takes a nap in the afternoon still (1:30-3:30) and goes down at 8:30.  He is still my snuggler and I absolutely adore him.  He loves to give me kisses and hugs.  He likes to sit on my lap or lay his head on my shoulder.  His smile is to die for and I LOVE dressing him up.  I am so grateful that Heavenly Father knew I NEEDED him to get through this time in my life.

People ask me every once and a while how I'm doing.  I'm honestly not really sure.  I don't cry every day anymore, but my life is not and never will be the same.  I feel like I can't go back to who I was.  I have anxiety like never before.  It's been very hard to deal with social gatherings.  I can do ok WHILE at a social gathering, but I usually cry before or after.  I'm getting better most of the time, but I still have anxiety in some degree every time.  I was not a social butterfly by any means, but now I don't even want to try.  I feel awkward around people.  I have this aching that never goes away that I either feel embarrassed about or don't know how to talk about.  I feel crushed around people who haven't lost a baby; they don't know what I feel.  Then, around people who have lost full term babies or children I feel like I'm a wimp for not bucking up when they have it so much worse.  When I really think about it or look at the pictures it feels real and like I really had her.  But, sometimes it all feels like a nightmare that is over and my mind is trying to block it out.  When you deliver a baby your mind blocks things out after a bit so you forget the horribleness of it and would be willing to do it again.  I feel like that is starting to happen and I don't want it to.  I'm forgetting pieces and she is slipping away for me.  I hate it! Everyone has moved on with life (as they can, it wasn't their baby), but it's hard for us to feel forgotten.  Everyone is starting to talk about Christmas and making plans, but I dread it.  I'm so scared to face December.  It hurts to think about right now so I avoid it.  It's coming though and like it or not I'm going to have to face it.  Some days I really do feel ok (as long as I'm not thinking about it).  I can smile and laugh again without feeling guilty.  I can go several days without crying.  I can handle being in the room as babies, but I have NO desire to hold them.  I don't like being around pregnant people, but I can be in the same room (I just cry later).

It's been two months...I can't be the same again, but I'm making progress.

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