Fast Sundays and such

So I know my last post was full of the fun, but in reality Halloween was much harder than I thought it would be. I thought it was the one holiday that may be okay, but nope. I was a wreck. The only thing I can say for Halloween is that you're mostly in the dark, so that's a good thing. You can hide those tears much better in the dark. When I got up on Sunday morning Ben asked if I needed to just stay home from church that day. But I'm determined to do what I'm supposed to be doing, and I figured it wasn't Fast Sunday, I could go. See, I've been warned by all of those other moms of dead babies that Fast Sundays are the days to stay away from church. You just can't trust your emotions if there happens to be a baby blessing. Since that baby boom in my ward has begun to wield those sweet newborns, I'm pretty sure that the Fast Sundays from now through March are going to be booked with baby blessings. So, I thought, I'll go this week. I'll be okay. Next week I'll stay home, or go late, or something. Next week I'll be prepared. But like a slap in the face, there it was, a baby blessing, not on Fast Sunday, for the second time since Gabriel died. I had no time to prepare my heart for it. It didn't help that I was already crying silently because I saw someone's round belly before I even noticed that beautiful baby dressed in white. It just made the tears come harder and as hard as I tried, I could not stop crying...through the entire three meetings...and the rest of the day. In Relief Society, I sat next to my friend, due just two weeks before me, and I cried because her belly is just so big and round and full of baby. Then she cried, and I felt awful for making her cry, because this should be such a happy time for her and I'm honestly happy for her, but can't help but have my heart ache for myself when I see her. I hate this self-pity thing and what I hate most about it is not being able to control it.

Anyway, it always takes me a few days to get over Sundays. Mondays are bad, Tuesdays get a little better, by Wednesday, I'm doing pretty good. This Wednesday was good. I even made a little dent in a few of those baby bills and I took the time to be thankful that Ben had a job this year so that we could pay them. I also got a letter from the school last week summoning me secretly to the Reflections Assembly, where both Skylar and Nick were chosen as winners. Skylar won the category for photography and got honorable mention in the visual arts category. Nick won the category for literature. My kids were completely stoked & it was so fun to see the smiles on their faces. Way to go Sky & Nick!!So Wednesday was good...until at dinner another bomb dropped. We were eating away, noisy as usual, and Kade turns to me and says, "Mom, this shirt is getting too small. I think we'll have to pass it on to Baby Gabe." The room was suddenly silent and I had to explain, once again, that his little brother is in heaven with Jesus and though we'll see him again, he won't be coming to live with us on earth. He won't need the hand me downs that Kade has, but that it was very nice of him to think of his little brother...and of course my heart broke all over again. We talk so much about Gabriel around here, that I guess Kade's little 4 year old mind forgets sometimes that he's not still going to be a physical part of our family for now. I wish my kids didn't have to know how it feels to have a dead brother, because from my experience with a dead sister, it's an awful feeling. My heart aches for them.

So here I am, at Thursday, and after last night I've had a pretty bad day and besides that Thursdays are always a bit hard for me. Gabriel was born on a Thursday, just 12 weeks ago. There are times that I am amazed at how quickly time has gone. It's been a blur these 12 weeks. At the same time it seems like it's been forever since I've held my precious boy and since just 12 weeks seems like forever, knowing that I have to wait so much longer until I get to hold him again seems like the worst torture. I hear it will get better and I have to admit that it has. Gabriel's death doesn't consume me anymore. That awful physical throbbing of my heart has eased and the days are getting a little easier. I don't cry myself to sleep most nights and wake up crying in the morning as much. The shock is gone. I've come to the realization that this is how life is going to be, always missing a piece of my heart. I still think of Gabriel all of the time and I still can't help but think of that due date, just 9 weeks away, and ache for what I could've had then. I also can't help but dread that in just two days I have to get up the strength to head to church again and see all those pregnant bellies and brand new babies...and it will be Fast Sunday.

Why does this have to be so darn heartwrenchingly horrible?