The freak-out has officially begun

It's August, and my annual meltdown is underway.

I'm not sure why I thought this year would somehow be easier or less painful, but it's not. I honestly believed that once I got through that horrible year of "firsts," I'd be able to heave a huge sigh of relief and things would be brighter and I'd be able to feel normal again.

Not so.

If anything I feel worse than I did last year at this time. I don't have that sense of panic as I did last year, wondering how on earth I'd made it through my baby's first birthday, but instead I'm filled with a more pronounced feeling of sadness and it's weighing quite heavily on my heart.

I'm positive that it's a combination of Ryan's birthday and angel day - and the first anniversary of my dad's death sandwiched right in the middle. But, even though I know what's triggering my feelings, it doesn't make any of this easier to accept or handle. It still fucking hurts in a way that I can't even describe.

And, sometimes, I still can't believe that our beautiful baby never came home. It's still painful to think that we had to write our infant son's obituary instead of his birth announcement. Or, that we had to make arrangements for his memorial service instead of proudly introducing him to friends and family. Or, that his room is still untouched and pristine and looks nothing like a living child's room would look, with toys strewn everywhere and crayon scribbles on the wall.

All we have are the shattered pieces of a beautiful dream, all neatly tucked into a keepsake box that I view as our consolation prize.

This just isn't how it's supposed to be, and right now I'm having a hard time accepting that this IS how things are and I can't do a damn thing to change it or fix it.