We left home again on April 7th, but this time we went north. We spent time with family. It helped to have our little purple princess there to entertain us. She received countless hugs and kisses. I don’t think she minded.
The days leading up to The. Day. are full of dread and emotional irrationality. We went to Babies R Us and bought Annie all sorts of ridiculous things that required assembly. But really, those things were for me – assembly instructions for a child’s toy were exactly what my mind needed. Plus, I got to use a hammer.
On every excursion out with Annie, someone inevitably asked, “is she your only child?” And we would smile and say, “the only one with us.” Most took it to mean her sibling wasn’t out shopping. We didn’t want to ruin their day and correct them, so we’d simply leave it at that.
We did a lot of cuddling, a lot of sleeping. And just when I thought I had things under control, we got bad news and the dam broke. I did a LOT of crying. It was a release, and it was exhausting.
Now that the seventh has passed, there is relief (which leads to guilt)., but there is also a hollowness. This space and energy that was worked up around surviving The Day is now uneasy, and disjointed, and sad. So, so sad.
The days leading up to a “land mine” day are always hard. On the day, I am numb, and the weeks after, I am bewildered, wondering how I got here, wondering how I survived, wondering how I am supposed to survive this again next year.
The after, once everyone leaves, everyone moves on, is always the hardest part.