It is a weird and different experience for me to have so much of my support group also dealing with the same sadness I have. This is what it felt like for them when Maddie passed away. I miss the days when we were connected by crushes and classes instead of heartbreak and grief.
I am falling to the routines of every day. Actually, the only thing “routine” about our every day is our bedtime ritual (wash hands, face, brush teeth, change diaper, brush hair, read a story, sing a song, crib time). The rest of the time, Annabel is maddeningly, wonderfully unpredictable. Some days she wakes at seven am ready for the day, other mornings I have to literally pull her out of bed at eleven am. She’ll change her clothes four times before breakfast, or she’ll scream if I even think about removing her princess dress for something more practical.
She lives in the moment. That seems so amazingly lucky. All she cares about is what she is experiencing right this very minute – what she’s eating, wearing, touching. How her voice sounds or what her reflection is doing. There is no worry about what will happen next; there is only NOW.
Sometimes I really wish I could be as innocently self-centered as my two-year-old. I would love to throw a tantrum and then get sent to my room for an hour. Being an adult sucks sometimes.
Annie walked into my office with a scarf wrapped around her and said, “Look, Mama! Annie funny.” In that moment, she wanted me to laugh, and I did. I could definitely use more of these moments.