This Time Last Year...

...we told my in-laws I was pregnant with Weston. We had just found out ourselves, but we were comfortable breaking the news early to our families. I ran out and bought a "Big Sister" t-shirt for Caroline to wear to the family gathering. That t-shirt has since been lost and found, but I couldn't bring myself to take it back.

Tonight, for only the second time since Weston died, I went to a gathering with all of my in-laws. Of course, no one remembered what happened "this time last year" except for the couple of people I told beforehand. But I was thinking about it, and I was also worried about how I would fare in a big group. We were celebrating several birthdays tonight.

I have been feeling very sad, yet very far away from Weston lately. I don't even know how that's possible, but it's how I feel. Life ran on autopilot this week. The week included Mardi Gras (unobserved by us), Ash Wednesday (unobserved, although I am doing something for Lent), and Valentines Day (observed in our own unique way). My Lent "exercise" is resulting in a lot of introspection, which is difficult yet sorely needed. The more I blog, the more I realize that, although it is therapeutic, it is not truly introspective. After all, anyone with an Internet connection can read my blog, and I am quite aware of that when I write. So I edit and censor myself somewhat so as not to completely offend the masses (and the lucky ones with no dead children). For example, the f-bomb makes more frequent appearances in my vernacular and in my head (especially in my head), yet I cannot bring myself to actually type it out here.

Also, I haven't been able to run as much lately because my knee is bothering me. Today I ran seven miles, but it got progressively worse until I was actually limping by tonight. And I haven't written as many blog posts this week. So I didn't/couldn't do what I normally do to feel close to Weston. Maybe that's an explanation for my contradictory feelings.

Today went very well, and I am so relieved. We finally decided it was time to potty train Caroline and talked it up all week. But this morning she threw a two-hour tantrum when we started. Then, remarkably, she stopped crying and used the potty for the rest of the day, and even at the restaurant tonight. She did not have a single accident all day. So, the key to successful potty training is...laziness! Losing Weston pushed potty training to the very bottom of the priority list. And no one really gives a crap about how to potty train a three-year-old girl, so I will move on.

But I have probably jinxed myself. The minute I hit "publish" on this post, potty training hell and regression will ensue.

So, back to tonight. My first reaction when I learned of the plans was to not go. But I decided about a week ago that I should give it a try. I told Shannon I would go sit in the car if I got upset, so I had my out. But it actually went very well, and I had a good time. What helped enormously was the good-sized dance floor with the live country band adjacent to our table.

I might be biased, but Caroline has some serious rhythm. That girl can dance. And dance she did, for most of the night, with her fellow girl cousins. If I was feeling sad, all I had to do was look at her dancing, and I couldn't help but smile.

So I made it until the end of the night, until someone said something very sweet to me that made me cry. It was a reminder of how blessed I am to have such a wonderful daughter, here with me. But there is no pure sweetness in my life anymore; it is always accompanied by the bitter. I imagined Weston, a year or two from now, out there on the dance floor with the rest of them. On Shannon's side of the family, the only other boys are teenagers, so Weston would have been the lone little boy tagging along with the girls. It would have been worthy of a Norman Rockwell painting. He is every bit as wonderful as Caroline, yet he wasn't there tonight, and he never will be. So, I cried.

But I kept it together. There were balloons from the celebration, so Caroline took some. As we left, she wanted to release them, and we made it a little impromptu release for Weston. There were three balloons: one for each of us to send to him. I hope he saw them. And I hope he knows he is always with us.