Early June gets to me. If I went to term with Blue Sunday
and he was born as many days late as bub was- he would have been born tomorrow
June 5th 2012. So here we are EBD 3.
Hub and I had a catastrophic day on the EDD- May 31st. It
was one of the worst days we have ever experienced in our relationship- 15
years together in 3 weeks. It’s fine, we’ll be fine, but there was a careless
moment and he just doesn’t GET how to talk to me about Blue Sunday, about our
relationship or about his war. It all came to a head on the EDD itself.
How?
We should have a three year old.
That blows my mind. It is unimaginable to picture life with a
little kid when I only got as far as imagining a newborn before it was taken
from me. It will only get more and more unreal as the years pass, especially
with the lens of bub- a little more than a year and a half behind. In some respects, it eases the pain: it is
hard to miss what you can’t imagine. In other ways it removes Blue Sunday from
me all over again, that hurts. Again.
Let me not die while I am still alive.
This is the prayer,
motto, inspiration that those of us with a hard story in our books should keep
in our minds.
Let me not die while I am still alive
Let me not shrivel under the weight of loss.
Let me not forget the living as I hold onto the dead.
Let me not waste the life I still have.
I owe that to my baby.
No.
I owe that to my babies.
We have dinner plans with a few of our friends over the next
several days; we have parties and trips and classes; we have our lives.
There will never be a time when I forget Blue Sunday. There will
never be a May 31st that I don’t remember what would have been. I will
try to do so with joy and purpose though. I will try to make this past May 31st
was the last horrible one.
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