I’ve been in an ongoing pity party for about four months now. I didn’t realize that’s what’s been going on this long. I figure I was just in a funk. How did I even get here in the first place?
As the one year mark quickly approaches, I find myself writing less and less. I know I’m not writing because I find myself avoiding the inevitable emotions of one year. We will have made it a year. Of course we made it, we weren’t given the choice. No one chooses this path. It just happens. You make yourself get through it. Slowly and painfully, but you do.
I was reminded today that one year ago, I was 40 weeks and I left work on maternity leave. I felt proud that I was able to keep working that far along in my pregnancy.
“Happy 40 weeks and guess (due) date to me! Made it this far, so I decided it's time to go on maternity leave 😂😜 maybe some rest will coerce her out during the next 2 weeks“
I remember enjoying the time off work, relaxing and getting the remaining details put together for her birth. I remember the false start I had the following Tuesday. We were so excited, Camden took the day off. When the Braxton Hicks subsided a few hours later, we ended up going out for breakfast and enjoying the day together. The last few days of “just us.” I remember my last prenatal appointment the next day. She was head down and had a healthy heartbeat. Everything was perfect.
As her birthday approaches, memories pop into my head from that day and the days following in the hospital. The emotion is just as strong as it was a year ago. The longing for her is still there, the ache in my arms to hold her is still there, every detail of her birth will always be there in my mind. Nothing will ever change those feelings.
No, it’s not short for an explicit word. It’s an acronym for methylene tetrahydrofolate reductase. It’s the gene responsible for making the MTHFR enzyme, which plays a part in processing amino acids. This enzyme specifically involves the processing of folate. After some recent blood work was done, I have the MTHFR gene mutation. More accurately, I have the MTHFR C.665>T gene mutation.
2017, you were by far, the most devastating year in my life.
I wish I could celebrate this wonderful day with you. I wish I could see the wonder in your eyes, taking in all the exciting new things Christmas brings. I wish I could be happy today. I wish I could have woken up to you, excited to show you the joy Christmas brings. Smiles all around.
Eight beautiful roses were bought today, meaning eight months have passed. Today started like every 10th of the month does. I get ready, buy roses from the florist and head over to the cemetery. Typically, I clean off her headstone, put the roses in the vase and I write in my journals. I often wonder at these dates what she would be like, but the imagination can only run so far until reality hits. Tears flow and I grieve again.
I sometimes wonder what goes on in people’s heads when I post blogs about Penelope or articles about loss. I sometimes struggle with words to say when people say ‘you’re so strong’ or ‘I don’t know what I would do if that happened to me.’ I often think of what today would be like if Penelope was alive. I still think about what her personality would be like, what her laugh would sound like, what color her eyes are and if she would still have curls in her hair.
The grief is still very raw. Only today, it’s magnified. 6 months. 6 MONTHS!! How? How has it been 6 months already?! It’s a well-known fact that I’ve been dreading today, mainly because I’ve been sharing it freely. I’ve cried almost every day the past 2 weeks. It’s been a horrible countdown in my head and now it’s here.
As Penelope’s 6 month angel-versary approaches, I can’t believe I have made it this far. It doesn’t mean that the next 6 months will be any easier. No, I have my birthday and holidays to “make it through.” Days I don’t want to celebrate because again, I am reminded that she’s not here and she should be. Those important firsts. And in my mind, since the holidays seem to make time speed up even faster, then her 1st birthday would be approaching faster than I want it to. A day I dread most of all. A day that was supposed to be joyous. A day that means I’ve made it a year without her.
That phrase, encounter, action, or situation that sets into motion tears of sadness. They vary for everyone and sometimes I wish I knew what mine were ahead of time before the tears start. Typically it’s my thoughts and situations that get the tears flowing.