My baby is dead but at least...

... I don't have a side butt. I was in Ikea this morning (I know it's a prime location for the crying baby hit squad) but I wanted to pick up a couple things. D and I were standing in line and the woman in front of us with her roughly 4 year old boy had the worst butt ever. I mean really bad. She was not fat, maybe you could call her curvy at most, but her hips went straight out to the side while the back of her butt was completely flat. I know it was horribly mean to think about this poor girl's butt like this because she could easily be thinking awful things about how I look. (I definitely don't like the way my body looks these days as all my extra baby weight makes me look like I am still pregnant) Heck she could be a dead baby mama too for all I know. However, it did distract me from all the pregnant people and baby strollers while we waited in line so I'll go with it. It's a sign of how crappy life as a dead baby mama is when you have to stare strangers' butts to keep it together in public. Maybe next time there could be a cute college boy in front of us.

Home not so sweet home

I am back home after 2 weeks on the road. I am so glad to not be traveling anymore but mostly I feel like crap. It's not like I could pretend that Reid never existed and therefore never died while we were away, but there were definitely fewer reminders right in front of my face. Fewer babies and bellies around. I didn't have to walk past the "baby room" and all his things sitting in there a hundred times a day. I didn't have to be surrounded by memories of all the things I did while I was pregnant and all the things I have done to try to survive since I wasn't.

Maybe part of it is that everywhere I look there are chores that need to be done, (DH is wonderful but he definitely let more than a few things slide while D and I were away) but that shouldn't be enough to make me want to cry non-stop. It's like the weight on my chest that had eased off during the trip has all been dropped right back into place.

Itchy

It's my last day at my parents farm. It finally stopped raining but the mosquitoes are SO bad that we can barely go outside. I have many, MANY bites from just trying to get a few minutes in the sun. I really hope that it isn't this bad at my MIL's so I don't have to choose between being eaten alive and being cooped up all day.

Except for a couple trips to the grocery store in the city and the previously mentioned incident with my dad, I have been able to hide out from babies, pregnant women and most of the other things that make me cry. I never came to the farm while I was pregnant with Reid so I don't have to block out memories of hanging out here and planning to come back with him. (Of course the plans were still made in my head, but they were made in Alberta). I really wish that he was here with us and there were lots of my parents friends dropping by to meet him instead of me hiding out from all but the closest family friends. It's weird but no one other than my parents has mentioned Reid or what happened. Not even my grandmother or my mom's friend who both had stillborn children. I am not ready to bring up the subject but I thought someone might bring it up, especially my grandmother.

This trip has also been bittersweet has it may be our last trip to the farm ever. My parents are ready to retire and the farm is up for sale. I can't imagine my parents living anywhere else. (They built the house the summer before I was born and have lived here ever since.) I just hope for their sakes that it sells soon so things don't drag on forever. I live 9 hours away and can't visit that often so it really won't change things that much for me. I will just have to get used to the idea that the house I grew up in isn't my parents' house anymore and that D will likely be the only one of my children to even visit my childhood home.