The Opposite of Quiet

"Loud" is not the word I'm looking for. Running around like a freak trying not to deal with my feelings is probably closer, but a "Quiet" post followed by "The Opposite of Quiet" sounds much more poetic. Speaking of poetic, it's ironic that words come so much more easily now that I have experienced the unthinkable.

Today was...interesting. I don't know how else to characterize it. As far as missing Weston goes, it was not the worst day I've had. Which begs the question that I'll answer preemptively: no, there are no "best" days anymore. They are just bad, horrible, plumbing the depths of hell, or bearable. I guess today was bearable.

Today marked the "real" first day back to normal life, whatever that will be now. We did have about a week and a half of routine before we left for Connecticut. But now, vacations-escape trips: who am I kidding?-are over. Now all I have to look forward to are...my due date (October 26) and the holidays.

So, I am literally becoming Supermom to keep myself occupied. Here is what I did today:

~First, I awoke at 5:45, thanks to extensive travel across three time zones and its effect on three-year-olds. Like many mornings, I didn't realize that Weston was gone when I first woke up. It took a few minutes to remember, and then the crushing weight settled into my chest again. It will not leave again until I am asleep tonight.

~I took Caroline to her annual checkup with her pediatrician. Of course I had to tell the doctor about Weston, because it has affected Caroline and my parenting so profoundly. I cried but held it together. We also saw exactly forty million baby boys.

~Then I took Caroline to Starbucks. Before you judge, I do NOT give her coffee. She has almonds and, sometimes, Naked Juice (which I promised her today as a treat after the shots she ended up not getting). And the girl loves going to "coffee places" with Mommy. We usually go to a local coffee shop, but NOTHING tops Starbucks' pumpkin spice latte.

~I wrote five more thank-you notes and read more of my what-to-expect-when-you-grieve-over-losing-your-child book during Caroline's nap.

~I started planning Caroline's transition to a big-girl bed, also during naptime. This was something I had planned to do before bed rest, but it clearly was pushed by the wayside (except I did get her bedding; bed rest did not preclude online shopping). She has still never tried to climb out. I found a bed on Craigslist, which we will hopefully pick up Saturday.

~We bought groceries at Sprouts. Then I started plotting about getting a cruiser bike with a kid seat and a big basket so we can bike to Sprouts for midweek grocery runs when the weather gets cooler. I will not only be Supermom, I will be GREEN Supermom.

~I sold some books back to the used bookstore during our grocery store run. Yep, green AND frugal.

~I made dinner: chicken eggplant stacks with marinara sauce and salad with made-from-scratch dressing. It was all egg- and dairy-free, due to Caroline's allergies. Those of you who know me well know this is quite a feat. I don't cook like this (with the exception of the made-from-scratch salad dressings; I do that all the time.).

~And Caroline and I still managed to play and read a lot of books together.

~I didn't look at my iPhone all day (except during nap time).

~I went to Home Depot to get a paint roller to stencil Weston's cedar chest. The cashier complimented my necklace that holds Weston's ashes several times. I did not tell her that it holds my son's ashes.

In other words, I did EVERYTHING POSSIBLE to occupy my mind all day. I'm probably trying to make up for lost time with Caroline and with generally getting things done. And I probably feel some subconscious guilt with Weston: that my body failed him. Ultimately, he died because my placenta couldn't function long enough. So maybe I'm somehow trying to make up for it.

The house was dim and quiet when I returned from Home Depot. Weston's candle was burning in the kitchen next to his picture, as it does every night. The wind picked up, and I could hear his windchime going crazy outside. I looked at some pictures from the memorial service for the first time (my sister gave them to me last weekend); I still can hardly believe that my son died and that we had a service for him. No matter how much I run myself in circles, Weston will always be gone. No matter how loud and chaotic, our house and our lives will always be too quiet. I miss him SO MUCH.

Tomorrow's to-do list includes an Ikea adventure (it will be Caroline's first trip), setting up my next hospital visit to talk to the doctor about Weston's death, and finding a grief counselor. You know, just a typical day.

I promise that my blog posts are not going to devolve into play-by-play descriptions of how I pass the time every day. But this blog is a journal of sorts, and I might wonder someday how I coped (or didn't cope) after vacation/escape was over.

For while we are in this tent, we groan and are burdened, because we do not wish to be unclothed but to be clothed with our heavenly dwelling, so that what is mortal may be swallowed up by life.
II Corinthians 5:4