Not the same

I have been trying to write a new post since Tuesday night, but I can't seem to string coherent thoughts together. My brain is mush. Tuesday night I was invited to a football practice. I played touch football before we moved to Edmonton and had D. I loved playing football so I thought it would be a good way to get some exercise and get out of the house. It turns out that I am not ready physically, mentally or emotionally. My body wasn't strong enough to keep up and running with a big flabby belly was just gross. My brain couldn't remember what play I was supposed to run. My heart was a giant gaping wound. How can I care about a silly game when my baby is dead? I used to love playing sports, it was my preferred form of exercise, now I can't imagine having the mental capacity to do it. It seems like another part of the pre-dead baby me is gone. There really is no part of life that the death of a child doesn't touch, there is no place to pretend that we are still normal, nothing is the same as before Reid.