Daily Life

This past weekend I attended a baby shower. My husband is very close to his cousins, and one of them is shortly expecting his first child with his wife. The pregnancy has gone well medically but his wife has been having a hard time as her mother is no longer with her. So we really wanted to show our support for them, to let her know we're all here with her. And I think she felt that. It was a beautiful shower and they are now well set with baby things!

OK, separate paragraph now. Keeping the happy separate from the sad.

I struggled so much with this baby shower. Going through my head the entire day was how much I wanted to make sure the day was about HER and her new family. And thankfully it was. I was on eggshells, barely holding it together, but I made it the whole day. It was beautiful, and it was terrible. I'm just glad that I didn't ruin it with my mood and I was able to keep up a cheery facade. But in my brain it was a thunderstorm. Every time she opened a gift she happily commented how they were "really going to need this!" And instantly my brain shot back "I hope so!" As if it does any good to make sure that particular caveat is kept in mind when a new mother prepares to meet her little one. She was so happy and so filled with hope. And that TERRIFIED me. At this point in M's pregnancy with Aiden, and for many weeks beyond, we all were just as happy and hopeful. Just as innocent.

I guess that was one of the worst parts. Me going through in my mind just how tragic each of the gifts and each of the happy statements would be if what I knew can happen actually happened in the end. God PLEASE don't let that happen.

Her husband's sister, my husband's other cousin, is a long-time friend of mine. And as she giddily showered her sister-in-law with "I <3 My Auntie" gifts my heart just broke. It hit me that she's me, 15 months ago. That smile, that excitement, that anticipation. I forcefully kept my eyes looking away. I am so thankful that I have been able to keep to myself enough so that she is able to feel that.

It had been a while since I had been put back into the thick of grief. I knew this shower would probably do that, so of course for weeks I dreaded it. Then someone suggested that I have a "buddy" with me just in case, so a few days in advance I talked to my brother-in-law's girlfriend and she became my buddy. She was fantastic. She helped keep distraction with conversation, and in general was a life-saver. I highly suggest this buddy-system for anyone else in a similar situation. Without knowing she would be there I don't think I would have gone, which would have been a shame.

OK, shaking it off...

Other than this shower, things have been going pretty well here. For the most part, since Aiden's first anniversary we have enjoyed possibly the first few weeks of our new normal. On Valentine's day a friend of mine sent me an email that simply contained this picture:



And it made me smile. :) That sort of sums up our new normal. It's us, living a life, and Aiden is a part of it. We see him pop up all over the place. He is in our hearts, and he is in the hearts of those around us. That, I love. I am so thankful to be in a place where thinking of Aiden can make me smile more than it makes me cry. Where my relationship with my brother is even stronger than it was before. Where we all support each other. Those are the good things. The things we need to keep going and to have hope for the future. This is my new daily life.