Drowning

We go back to work tomorrow. I can’t quite decide how that makes me feel. Apprehensive? Anxious? Relieved to have a little bit of “normal” when everything else feels so alien? Guilt for “getting on” with life?

Probably a little bit of all of it.

Grief is a fluid emotion. It ebbs and flows around me all day and sometimes, I can never predict when, it will crash over me and I will feel like I am drowning. Today was a good day. We spent time outside with the dog’s, got odd jobs done, the house is spotless and it was beautiful weather. Yet, while I was mowing the grass, I stopped and cried because I should be looking forward to finishing so that I can go and find your dad and you and see what you’d been up to while I was busy. I should have been anxiously smothering you, my fair haired little boy, in suncream and hiding you in the shade.

I was fine, and then I was drowning.

Later on I was making appointments in the diary for clients and noticed tomorrow’s date. I deliberately chose tomorrow to work, I decided I needed the distraction. You should have been two months old tomorrow. We should have been taking a milestone picture and wondering what life was like before you because it felt like you’d always been with us. Instead it’s almost 6wks since you let us know you needed to leave us.

I miss you everyday, little Sprout. Though it gets easier to function and put on a brave face, the pure agony is always just below the surface. The next wave is always about to engulf me, pulling me down until I am gasping for air, screaming silently to be able to hold you one last time.

So, though our “normal” begins tomorrow, please don’t think I don’t still miss you. Don’t ever believe that you are not ever present in my heart and soul. You, my little warrior, are with me, always.