Countdown

It will be here in a few hours: OCTOBER. October has traditionally been one of my favorite months: the weather is generally cool enough to run outside, pumpkin spice lattes are widely available, and...Halloween! (If I lived somewhere besides Phoenix, I would also be excited about breaking out the sweaters and boots, but the forecast still calls for triple-digit temps for a while.)

As a parent, Halloween is now my favorite holiday, simply because it's like Christmas without the stress. Caroline was over the moon with excitement last year. There is nothing better for a parent than watching your kids have fun (excuse me, kid: I will never experience the joy of seeing my second child have fun).

Until now. October would have been even better this year: Weston was supposed to arrive on October  26. An arrival essentially anytime in October would have been safe. I would have spent the month with a giant belly, putting the finishing touches on his room, and buying him a tiny Halloween costume. Instead, I will decorate his urn with a little Halloween pumpkin.

The calendar turning over to October also puts us three months removed from Weston's birth and death. Time is relentlessly marching on. And the entire planet shifts to remind me: shorter days, cooler weather, colored leaves, watermelons replaced by gourds.

We were planning a home birth, and my midwife gave me a big bag of supplies at my 12-week appointment. It is still sitting in my closet.

A parent's grief for their child is the most isolating experience imaginable; I have said that before. But October will present a paradox: it is Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness Month, with October 15 being the big day of remembrance. I am so tired of the way people in general (not you, my faithful blog readers!) just brush these monumental losses under the rug, as if Weston had less worth and/or was less loved because he only lived three weeks. So, although I now belong to the worst club in the world, I'm thankful for the solidarity and entire month of special remembrance that will acknowledge this horribly difficult topic a little more deeply and meaningfully.

So, there is this beautiful month-long photography project that I want to do. If you don't feel like clicking on the link, it's a project for grieving parents called Capture Your Grief. Every day you take a picture of the designated subject having to do with your child who died. Tomorrow's subject is the sunrise. I am not a morning person; that's why I'm hesitating to commit. I am also not the greatest or most creative photographer.

This particular blogger is very artistic and expresses her grief over her child in beautiful and creative ways. For a while I was wishing I could be creative like that, but (1) I have this blog, which is infinitely more therapeutic for me than being crafty and is creative in its own way; and (2) I HATE CRAFTS. Pinterest can suck it. There, I said it. I don't think I have ever suggested to Caroline in my life, "Hey honey, why don't we make a collage? Or a handprint turkey?" or some other ridiculousness like that. This really presents a conundrum because I like the idea of making more and consuming less.

Tonight I tried to make my mom's birthday present. In case she reads this soon, I am not going to elaborate, but her present involves Weston. It was a disaster; I made the biggest damn mess and ruined a not-cheap object. So now I will go out and BUY an infinitely less creative gift.

In case you can't tell from the tone of my posts, a lot of anger is building up. I'm too emotionally exhausted to go into it now, but, oh, it's there. And I think it's going to get worse: seeing pregnant women, hearing birth announcements...I want to punch something just thinking about it.

Although stress has generally taken over the holiday season to the point that I can't enjoy it, I have still always loved being with my family on holidays. Seeing them, and watching Caroline have fun, makes all the stress worth it. I tried to slow down and observe Advent last year, but it didn't really work. Anyway, October also put me one step closer to being with my family for the holidays. That was another thing I loved about it. But the holidays are going to be horribly awful this year, so October puts me one step closer to that hell.

So, I'm coping the way I always cope: filling up the calendar for the month. I'm going to a grief conference this week, have scheduled allergist and dentist visits for Caroline, am planning a weekend away with friends, and have made tentative Halloween plans with friends. We just need to figure out how to spend October 26. On an emotional level, I want to really celebrate Weston (it should have been his birthday month, after all), so I need to figure out how to do that. Maybe the photography project is the answer.

I'm too upset to make a solid point here, so the stream of consciousness is just going to have to suffice for this post. I just really miss my baby. I hate October so much, and it's not even here yet. Anticipation is often worse than the actual event, so I'm hoping that is true for the big October. Please say extra prayers for me this month. And maybe add a prayer that I can see, and maybe hold, Weston in my dreams. I haven't dreamed of him since before he was born. I would give anything to see him in any form.