Walking through it.

Isaac's stone went in the day after Father's Day. As I was driving to go visit him and to see his marker, my mind drifted back to the day we placed him in the ground. Our service was small, only my closest friends and family were there. I remember feeling so proud of my baby and so happy to have in my arms again. He looked like a baby doll. I don't know if it was because I was doped up on Xanax, or if it was because I wasn't familiar with funerals, but I was expecting to hold Isaac through out the service. I wasn't prepared at all for when I was instructed to lay Isaac in his casket. I remember the children starting to sob and I remember the tears blinding my eyes. I remember thinking "Oh God... Father... Do I really have to say goodbye?". "Do I really have to put my child down?". I remember kissing him over and over again, like mad, laying him down, tucking him in, kissing him again, and stumbling to my chair. I really didn't want to make a scene, but I remember thinking to myself... this is why mothers fall to their knees and wail when their children die. The pain could kill you, I swear it would, I thought in that moment. Andrew was the only listed palbearer. Ian was the only listed honorary palbearer. Andrew carried the baby out. We drove Isaac, in his casket, to the grave site, on my lap. My poor baby, dead, in a box, on my lap. I was proud to do it. But I was mad as hell. I remember thinking who the hell made this decision for me. Did I really agree to this? To carry my child, only to later bury him?

It's almost been three months now. I've struggled with blogging, because there are some people that read my blog that I have decided (peacefully and confidently) that I did not want them in my life. It bothers me to have made that decision, still knowing that they can be a part of my life this way. I've thought back and forth about setting my blog to private, but I decided it was more important to keep the avenues of communication open. Not for them, but for me, and for you. I need to be able to share my story in an open forum. I cherish meeting new people, and reaching out and touching those back, that have touched my life so deeply. If another has to read my blog to keep tabs on me, then so-be-it, I wouldn't have shared with them otherwise.

Summer rolls on here. The children are happy and my days are mad busy with work and play and housework and cleaning. I have a few people I keep in touch with personally - - those would be my nearest and dearest. Othen than that, I stay home, in my "hole" as I refer to it. I keep to myself, avoiding most communication with the outside world. I like being in my own space. I like being alone. I'm different. I can't fix or change it, and don't necessarily think I should have to. We're planning ahead for our next baby. Making plans for the days, weeks, and months ahead. But for now, for now I try to make it through my days, being present in motherhood and as a wife and friend the best I know how, inspite of this huge sorrow I feel and burden I carry. Heart ache is really over rated. I'm beginning to think growth is, too. Some days I wish I could go back to how it was before. No such luck, friends. No such luck.