Tuesday, May 22, 2012
I don't have much to say. It's afternoon, it's raining, there are toys strewn all over the floor, B is finally napping.
We've reached a transitional stage, he does not want to be rocked to sleep, but he's not quite able to put himself to sleep from a fully awake state. So I set him in his crib, leave him alone for a few minutes; he fusses when he's done playing with his giraffe and pulling himself to a stand in every corner of the crib. I lay him down, give him his blanket, kiss his forehead, and stand next to the crib while he falls asleep.
It's frustrating, annoying - why won't you just let me rock you?! - but it's better than the emptiness of unused baby items in a dark nursery.
This month has been a studied concentration in keeping it together. It's not gone how I would like, life has been too much in the way for me to withdraw as I wish, as I need to.
It's pouring, sheets of rain from the skies soaking our vegetable gardens and flower beds, encouraging growth and strength. When it rains in May like this I remember the weeks after she died in all of its awful shock-struck grief.
It all connects in my mind - rain and May and spring and blooms and a new life ended too soon.
Miss you sweet girl. Miss you, miss you, miss you.