Thanks to all who have been concerned about me. I’m fine. My absence has been a cross between being busy (sister-in-law was visiting from Turkey for the past two weeks) and feeling a bit empty as far as having something blogworthy to say.
I feel unimaginably sad. All the time. I wander around and I am always thinking about what I’ve lost. Always. And when I think about writing that here, I pause. How many different ways can you say you’re sad? And how many times can you say it, before people don’t listen anymore. I’m not saying that people stop caring (I know you care because you are reading this). But I think it’s natural to shy away from a person’s pain when you feel/know there is nothing you can do to take it away.
Sometimes I want to be sad. Or at least, I’m at peace with it. I don’t enjoy it, but I sort of…revel in it. In those moments I can explore the sadness. I can write and when I’ve done that, it feels…satisfying. Like when you close your eyes and take a deep breath and then exhale. I feel full, present.
But right now I don’t feel like that. I don’t want the sadness. I want to pretend it’s not there. I don’t want to explore it. Even though the sadness is all around me taunting me whichever way I turn, I want to stick my fingers in my ears and shout “LA LA LA LA LA LA I CANT HEAR YOU”.
So that’s why I haven’t written lately.
edited to add:
I actually came on tonight to write about something else, and then wound up spilling the above. What I came on to write was this:
I held a baby today. It was the first time I’ve held a baby since Lina. On Fridays it’s become a semi-standing date to go to McDonalds with Annika’s “best friend” and her mom. They have a baby born on October 8th (I think) just a few days after Lina & Cole. We were in the infant room picking her up, and there was a little boy – also about 6 or 7 months – who had rolled himself off of the mat and was lying just on the linoleum. I picked him up to put him back on the mat, and oh.my.god. It felt so good, and yet…it broke my heart. I didn’t want to put him down. And yet…I wanted to run screaming from the room.
WHY am I not holding my own babies? HOW could this possibly have happened? I know the questions are rhetorical. But what I wouldn’t give not to have them to ask.