Today I woke up an absolute mess. Cried for hours in bed, lots more of them then I care to admit.
A lot.
Then, like every day, I hauled my ass out of bed, showered and went to work (yes, I know it’s Saturday… I think…) cried my heart out in the car, pulled my big girl boots on and got through my day like I am expected to do.
Four fucking months. How on earth has four months gone by since I have laid eyes on my beautiful baby boy? Since I got my last “mama hug”. 16 weeks and three days since I heard his voice. How is that even possible?
It seems odd to me that I have no concept of time, date or even day of the week but I can tell you exactly how long I have only been a mother of three.
On the ninth of every month I spend the day stuck in my head running through every minute of June 9th, like it just happened. I can tell you every single detail of the day. And for four months, I have repeatedly relived that, trying to assess what I may have done differently to make the outcome so that Jaidon was still here with us.
But he isn’t. He is gone and with him went a quarter of my heart, leaving a huge hole that makes me constantly feel like something is missing.
Last night we took Kyra and Laylie out for dinner while Mattea attended a birthday party, not an uncommon thing for us to not eat all together, many people with various schedules. But last night I just had this nagging feeling that I didn’t have a pulse on what all of my kids were doing. One was missing.
I spent so many years keeping track of four kids’ schedules, so much so that keeping track of only three makes me feel like I am constantly missing something.
Love my girls so much more than they will ever know but just feeling so empty on another horrific mile-marker. Knowing there isn’t shit I can do about it but learn to love with a crater missing from my heart.