This is my contribution to Angie's 2012 edition of Right Where I Am. If for some reason you have not read about this wonderful project yet (although I can't imagine what that reason could be), all the other contributions are here.
My post from last year is here. Please forgive me if this post doesn't make sense, sleep deprivation is not good for my thought processes.
Last Sunday we attended the annual Spring Memorial service for babyloss families in our area. It was our 3rd memorial and a reminder of how much some things have changed and how much others have not changed in the last 2 years. At the first service, I was a grieving zombie, sobbing with shock and horror at what my life had become. At the second, I could hold back the tears long enough to look around me and see all the other grieving parents around me. I could recognize those whose pain was fresher yet not any deeper than mine. We sat with a group of families from my support group who had all welcomed their subsequent babies and I wondered if at the next service I would be holding a new baby or lighting candles for another loss. At this third service, I cried into C.S.'s fine baby hair and used her blanket to wipe my tears. I listened to the poems about little babies playing in Heaven and a God who took them there before they could feel any earthly pain and and still wanted to yell out "Bull shit!" (I restrained myself because this was not the place to work out my issues with God.) I felt bad that I could not give my full attention to the service because C.S. needed me.
Right now, grieving is one of the things I have to make room for in my daily activities. I think of Reid many times a day, but I don't have the same amount of time to devote to grieving for him that I did a year ago. Would that have changed without the arrival of C.S.? Likely it would have, but there would have bitterness about infertility and new sources of grief to take up my time, not diapers and feedings and baby smiles. I do wish for more time to give to Reid (and my blog and the rest of the babyloss community), but the live and loud baby cannot wait and the silent child will always be there waiting.
I feel badly for being unable to devote my time equally to all three children but I have a hunch that this feeling it is a normal part of parenting more than one living child.
I still feel bitter towards people who have built their families without struggle, especially those who have older daughters and younger sons. I am jealous of those who get to raise all the children they created and nurtured in their bodies. I can go out in public and be around these people without loosing it, but the feelings are still there.
I am very careful to refer to D. and C.S. as "the girls" and not "the kids". My girls are here and I love then fiercely, but right now I need that distinction to acknowledge Reid.
Right now I still have a lot of things to deal with that a a direct result of Reid's death. However, for the most part I can avoid them and usually do. Right now, I need to focus on taking care of my girls and myself. I know I'll likely have to deal with them at some point and maybe that will come in the next year, but I'm not planning on it. Plans are still scary things around here.