My other "friends"

I'm back ... kind-of.

Well, I guess I never really left. I've just been silently sitting in my own little corner, wondering how I got here.

It's been almost five years (God, that realization takes my breathe away), and I still don't know how I should feel about all that's happened in that time. I've lived through a heartbreak I never imagined I'd have the strength to survive, and while it's still a daily struggle to push forward, I manage to find joy in the simple things, despite my perpetually heavy heart.

I still miss my boy oh so much. He's never far from my thoughts.

I'm realizing that this grieving thing has me chasing my tail far too often. Just when I think I've conquered a "step" in the process, I'm right back where I started, trying to understand all of it and deal with my feelings.

It's probably magnified, too, because of the timing of my current pregnancy. I find myself reliving so many of those final weeks with Ryan, since he and this little Jellybean were due just days apart. I'm so worried about history repeating itself and losing another piece of my soul. I don't know how to shake off that fear and pretend I'm okay while doing all these last-minute preparations for something that could be yanked away as easily as Ryan was.

Worry, sadness, anxiety, fear. They're my closest friends lately and know me better than anyone. It's funny how you can sometimes mistake your demons for your friends ...

Confessions of a shitty blogger

Yeah, that would be me.

I'm embarrassed, to say the least, that I haven't been blogging with any regularity in the last few months. I try to - I do - but I either have severe writers' block and freeze the instant my fingers rest on the keyboard ... or I just can't bring myself to write about the things bouncing around in my head.

And, I wish I could use the excuse of, "I'm busy with a new baby and my life is nothing but bliss," but that's not really it, either. I wish that were the reason, rather than the actual one: that I'm going through a very rough patch. Again.

I'm sure many people would think that life must be grand for me now that Megan's here, but the contrary is what's true. I finally have the beautiful little girl I've dreamed of and longed for, and I'm not happy. Leave it to me to spoil even the purest of things in life.

I miss Ryan like I never have before. My heart hurts so much, and I really don't believe that time is capable of healing all wounds. Some just cut too deep to ever fully heal, and all it takes is one little scratch for the pain to start all over again.

Will it ever end? Will I ever have peace?

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.