brunch is served.

Egg white omelette with asparagus, leeks, and pancetta. I woke up this morning feeling fancy...

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yum...

The recipe was called "eggplant and tomato stew over cous cous." The title doesn't do it justice!

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Just keep spinning.... spinning, spinning...

Going back to work has come and been fabulous. I've been back for 2 1/2 weeks now and am feeling stronger and better everyday. Returning to this was the best thing I could have done... but partially because my company is fabulous! But true to form, I've been on the internet significantly less so its been some time since I've written a blog of any kind of interest...

The two month marker of our terrible tragedy coupled with my first mother's day came and went this last week. It was a bit traumatic, though not from anyone's lack of trying. And now that we have had two livings through the sixth through the eighth of any month, I suspect I am seeing a pattern.

The sixth of the month sucks. No matter how hard I try, my brain falls on all of the should have beens. This is troubling because I try really hard to turn that off or at least turn it to some kind of positive light, but I just can't. This particular month I was focused on my friends comment she had made when explaining how unfortunate Carter's early birth was (to the friend she was with at the time). She told me recently that she had said something along the lines of, "No, you don't understand. Our friend is either about to be grieving, or be a special needs mother. And neither path is easy, or fair..." I tried awfully hard this past Friday to remember the prognosis of her living through a major stroke at such a young age. My heart was in the right place to not let Carter's death ruin another day when I've already lived through so many, I just didn't find a way to do that. Because once I accepted that the statistical chance of her being alive right now included that she would probably not have the promise of a life anywhere near what a parent wants for their child, then my head just went to the fact that she shouldn't be two months old, I should still be 35 weeks pregnant. That safe place where parents can start breathing a sigh of relief because babies born at that stage have not only an incredible chance at survival, but also a darn good chance at a normal life. Well, thinking that way really just puts me in a place to realize that things were pretty doom filled in the beginning and that probably the only place we made a mistake was continuing on with so much hope that things would turn out just fine. So that is how my brain works on the sixth. Like I said, it sucks. A lady who complained about the amount of head on her beer almost got sucker punched.

Then there is this lull in emotion. The 7th doesn't really mean anything too big. It was a day that was all about recovery and stability both for me and the baby. I was drugged out of my mind most of the day but it ended with a very emotional first meeting of the infamous Carter Marie. I remember returning to my hospital room and saying to Peter, through the tears that had taken over, "This isn't right. How can things go well when she is so tiny???" The one thing I've seen is that a sense of doom fills the 7th of the month. If I was worthless and in a horrible mood and brainless on the sixth, how absolutely horrible will tomorrow be?" Part of this doom may have also been the impending knowledge of mothers day coming this particular month.

But then, the eighth arrives... right on time. And I wake up with the reluctant sigh remembering how life is now.

But that is really it. This particular month, I took the 8th off. I remained completely non-committal about what I would be willing to do for... (cue bad horror flick background music) Mother's day. But then, I woke up, poured coffee, made a dish for the potluck mothers day brunch with the fam and went. And it was fine. And we went for a long bike ride downtown with a nice pit stop at one of our local favorites for drinks and a snack. And that was downright pleasant. And my body completely accepted the 2 hours in a bike saddle like a champ. I wasn't doing anything amazing... but hey, I rode for 2 hours, I even went over a couple of small bumps (you caught me, those hurt. I am strong but my guts still wiggle around inside me a little much.) And that was great. And then we came home and took a completely guilt free two hour nap. And that was fabulous. And had a light dinner. 

And at the end of the day, someone asked me, "So... how was Mother's day for you?"

And I said, "...It was okay." And I was hardly lying at all.

Todays random thought

My grief counselor says I need to be gentle and forgiving of myself during this time. I totally and completely sucked at that today. But is it being too critical of yourself to say that you have been too critical of yourself?
We can go around in this circle for hours but here is what it comes down to:
Carter would have been two months old today. But she is not. And for that... I am sad. And mad. And hopeless. And faithless.
If you go back before march... i should have been 34 weeks pregnant today. But I am not. And for that... I am sad. And mad. And hopeless. And faithless.
Let's just say... I had a bad day. And maybe someday the fourth through the eighth of the month will not be devastating. But May was not the month for that to happen. So lets just get through this week and begin again.

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Enjoying a beverage in my favorite glass.

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