The dreaded weekends...

If you know me in person, or if you've been following along for a while, you probably know that Fridays and Saturdays are my worst days. I seem to have the largest number of breakdowns on those days, and I tend to want to crawl into a hole beginning Thursday night and ending Monday morning (we might as well throw Sunday in there too). I try really hard to have something planned for these days, to distract myself, but it's no use.

These days were the worst in terms of his story. Friday is the day I was sent home from the good hospital (i.e. the hospital what would have given my the opportunity to hold him for as long as I wanted), thus totally changing the story, and Saturday is the day of all the trauma (surgery, birth, him leaving me, the phone call he died, the news I couldn't' be with him, etc, etc.).

Every time they roll around again (weekly) I can imagine myself right back there. It's rough.

They are also hard because they should be family time. We should be having so much fun together, the three of us. I can clearly picture all the fun things we'd be doing. Simple things like staying in our PJs all day, playing with toys, and just being together. Or, maybe heading to the children's museum to watch him learn and explore. I always have so many ideas, but no little guy to do them with.

When you add in the fact that his birthday is so close, and the older he gets in my mind the more I know we'd be having fun together, it leads to a very sad and hurt mama.

Yesterday, Bryan and I took out his hand molds and spent time looking at them. Oh my goodness, do I miss this little guy <3

All three (his hand mold was smooshed a bit during the hardening, but it's still darling to me)

my boys, hand in hand <3

little foot, tiny piggies <3

We keep them in a fire box in the closet becuase my new worst fear is that we'll have a fire and they'll burn up. So I feel better knowing they are safe in the box and I can pull them out when I need to.

After we spent time with them, I went into the closet to put them back. We have an old craftsman-style home and the closet has a wooden bench built into it. I sat down to set the molds away and I remembered something. When I was growing up, my parents bedroom had a small closet with blankets stored at the bottom. As a little girl, when I was sad, I would climb into the closet, snuggle into the blankets and shut the door. I always liked that. I hadn't remembered that in a long time. As I closed the top of the firebox and sat down on the bench, it all came flooding back. I pulled the door shut and sat in the total darkness for a while and cried. I'm just so sad. I miss him so much and my heart is just completely broken.

I'm sure Bryan thought I'd lost my mind, and maybe I have, but I actually felt better in there. I guess now I have another safe place to go when I just can't handle it all anymore.

I'm sure, come his birthday, that is where you'll find me.