So far, my mission for change has been minimally executed. I thought about getting angry with myself over that last night but decided to give myself a break. There simply has not been enough time yet to accomplish everything I imagine will happen during this “journey back to myself”.
Yesterday I managed to cook supper after work AND do the dishes immediately afterwords (hip hip horray!?). I didn’t tackle the laundry or bake cute little pink and green macaroons like I planned to. I did, however, take a nice evening walk with my husband and our dog. Every time we do that I always feel so refreshed and motivated for the future (even if the future only means waking up early enough to shower before work). I love our little ‘walking chats’, they make me feel safe and comfortable and hopeful. I’m not sure why.
There is something about the way the amber colored street lamps light the path before us. We can barely make out the features of each other’s faces and, either way, we’re staring straight ahead. It’s his voice that becomes clearer in the quiet and dark, like when hes talking to me in bed, that I love. In the early weeks of our son’s death HE was the only comfort I found. Here we are, 5 months later, walking around the streets in our neighborhood at night laughing and dreaming about the possibilities for our future. On our walks we often talk about our future home. The dream home. His taste is much more modern than mine but he softens around the edges when I speak of wrap around porches and white sheets on clotheslines. We both agree on a big garden and apple trees and I have come to compromise with my original plan for an old farm house. He is practical and insightful when it comes to the structural importance of a home and I trust him. We both want a goat so that’s really all that matters.
Hayden is always mentioned on our walks. I know I can tell Nick anything and he will understand. Yesterday was the first day of school for so many of my friend’s children and I don’t remember ever noticing the massive flood of ‘first day’ pictures and statuses on Facebook before now. Maybe it’s because this year I am a mother. My own son will never start kindergarten for the first time. I will never get emotional as I drop him off with his brand new lunchbox matching his brand new backpack. I will never greet him at the bus stop or have warm chocolate chip cookies waiting for him at the kitchen table. I would have been a great mom (oh gosh, here come the tears again)……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….
OK. I forget where I was going with that.
Talking to Nick about these things is a greater release than talking to my computer screen about them (well, duh!). Nick can say anything and it doesn’t upset me because I know he KNOWS. Often times to comfort me he will say, and in fact I crave to hear him say, “we will have more children”. The odd thing about that is I hate it when other people say it. I know it’s meant well and I know it’s true but for some reason it’s just one of those urking sentences people offer to condole. My own grandmother pisses me off when I hear her say it after I just finished expressing how much I miss my baby. The fact that I can have more babies does not and will not EVER replace the fact that I had one perfect son and he died for a stupid reason. That just doesn’t make sense. Pick which one of your kids you would like to have die. Does that feel good? Does it make it better for you knowing one of them will live? I didn’t think so!
I seem to have gotten off track. I think I started this post to share pictures and a recipe actually. When I start writing it always circles back to Hayden. The reason I made this blog in the first place was so I could move away from my baby loss rants. Obviously that isn’t going very well is it ?
I created a delicious masterpiece out of thin air today for lunch and I really wanted to share that.
Keep an eye out for my next post which I promise will actually be about something food related.