Today was hard. Saying that almost makes what I experienced today a huge understatement. Everywhere I looked around the house, every single time I looked into my daughter's beautiful eyes - Sawyer was there.
It was one of the first times since we've been back at the house that I didn't force myself to go out and "keep busy." My arms and legs were like rubber, my heart was aching and I felt sick to my stomach all day.
It was probably one of the most beautiful days of the summer, and I couldn't drag myself out of the house and I feel terrible for keeping Sadie so cooped up.
I tried to keep busy in different ways. Researching again all morning long - trying over and over to find another family who has experienced our heartbreak and pain. I have yet to find another mother or father who has dealt with the same type of Truncus Arteriosis that Sawyer had. I just need to know I'm not alone.
After looking for leads, Sadie and I had lunch. Just like we used to before our lives changed. Sitting at the kitchen table, the sunshine pouring in through the windows - we eat our lunch. But the banter is different. I lose myself in almost every moment, thinking of how things could have been. A single tear rolls down my face. Sadie stops her playful talk, looks at me seriously and asks "You okay Mommy?"
No. I'm not. I'm not okay. I miss my baby and I'm just so sad. It's such a small word and it consumes me at almost every moment. Sad.
The grief is just like my mom said it would be. She lost her second baby too, a son. The pain, she assured me, comes in waves. And that's how it's been. Big waves, small waves. There are never days where there are no waves at all. Just like a calm day at the beach, there's always the tiniest wave lapping at the shoreline. Making its presence known, not letting you ever forget.
And that was my day. Huge waves. One right after the other.