I am sitting at our kitchen table. To my left is a gigantic and imposing pile of medical records, with my iphone as a paperweight on top of them. Beside them is another stack of therapy records which I am half way through copying, along with the portfolio I have been scribbling in all day with questions for our accountant. I have workshop notes behind the laptop, the daycare contract for Lillian’s few days a week she spends and a cup of tea I have been trying to finish for the better part of an hour.
Book. Workshops. Mama work. Business. Repeat.
It occurs to me that we are going to eat dinner here in just a few short hours and an actual desk would be very nice to help organize all this. Right now I am living out of file folders with an exorbitant number of post- it notes to keep everything at hand. Come’on March.
It isn’t as if writing the book, working on workshops, running business and Lillian were the only thing on my day today. Somehow in here I also managed to clean the bathrooms and grocery shop, walk the dog and half drink a cup of tea.
I really should warm that.
In the quiet there is settling feeling that February is approaching and all that it brings. 3 years old. Our girl should be three. On her first birthday I relived every single moment of the days of her loss. The second year Lillian was 5 months old, a snow storm slowed us down and locked us at home. I found myself craving quiet and introspection. The PTSD was less. I was able to be more present. This third year, I do not even know where it will lead. Our life is so different then we ever thought it would be…at three. At three we would have begun trying for another child. At three I would be planning a birthday party filled with activities and games. At three we would be innocent, think ourselves “blessed” and not have any idea of the world that is now our reality. A reality of a bereavement book, workshops, a little sister and business I could never had imagined.
I find myself on a path I never thought would be. As I sit here and stare at this kitchen table I feel the ache of missing my girl building; reminding me of just how present she is in this future. She is in me. Just where she lived all 34+6 weeks. I will take her along to three in a much different way than what should be.