Thursday, March 26, 2015
Cohen insists on pushing a stroller and Ezra has decided that he needs one as well, which he usually ends up riding in at some point.
They love exploring on this path. It's great because it's paved but also has some woods around it so they can "adventure" and pick up sticks and throw rocks and roll in the dirt a little.
Can someone please tell me how these little boys are growing up so fast!? I just want to hold onto each age and keep them there, but it's also so fun to see how they grow and change.
Friday, March 20, 2015
- One of our chairs is tied to the table leg because that's how strongly we feel about chairs constantly being pushed into the kitchen.
- I laugh (inside) when Ezra says "uh uh" (which means no) when asked to give a kiss/go to bed/pick up toys/say a word. I guess he's practicing his decision making.
- I frequently yell excitedly about passing cars and trucks before realizing the boys aren't in the car
- I feel like i should buy stock in stain removers
- If the boys wake up happy and chatting in their room I leave them in there until it changes because...happy! Contained! Mostly quiet!
- I say some variation of "boys stop" about 60 times a day...BOYS, stop. BOYS, STOP. Boys, STOP! Stop, boys. STOP! BOYS! I probably even say it in my sleep. (They do get better at playing together eventually, right?)
Wednesday, March 18, 2015
It's been nearly 4 years but I keep circling back to this place. The place of loss and the sadness. At first, it was raw and heart wrenching pain that I never thought possible. Bursting out in tears at expected and unexpected times. In private, in public. Now, it comes in waves, sometimes catching me off guard. I still feel it so deeply, I don't think that will ever change. Sometimes, it amazes me that we, baby loss parents, can still carry on with our lives. I mean, I live every day without one of my children. Every.day. without knowing his smile, hearing his words, feeling his hugs. Every day with that ache in my heart for what will never be in this life.
The quiet moments are usually when it finds me. The still mornings watching the sunrise on my way to work, the song on the radio that always makes me cry, or the nights I stay up too late because I don't want to face the darkness. When I think about how different our lives would be. Sometimes I miss my life before the sadness. I don't think parenthood and sadness generally go hand in hand, but we have never known it differently. There is (lots!) of great joy in being parents, but we don't have experience being Mom and Dad without our grief. I wish I could know it differently. But I can't change what has happened, and so I will keep circling back. I will let myself circle because it matters. The sadness matters because he mattered.