Kittymomma's Adventures

I am writing a post tonight, despite the fact that I am tired and just want to veg out in front of the TV. Max missed school due to a cold earlier this week (We have all come down with it.), but he’s going back tomorrow and I want to be able to devote the school time to catching up on TV shows as God intended.

I’m working on injecting more humor into the blog. Topics have been heavy around here lately. That’s understandable given what’s going on in my life, but there is still joy and I want to include it.

Today is an odd day for that, considering that it’s the one-month anniversary of Lucy’s death. For most of the day, I have been fine. But I watched the clock all day. I watched the minutes creep inexorably towards my last moments with her and the last moments of her life. I felt dread, just as if I was actually reliving it, but with the knowledge of what was coming. At 6:15 today, the time they pronounced her officially dead one month ago, I was holding Max on my lap while he watched “Chuggington”. I called Chris over.

“It’s officially a month.”

He looked at his watch, “Yeah.”

I pulled him down next to us, “I want us to all be together in this moment. With Lucy.”

We both looked up at the framed photo of her in the bluebonnets that has been hanging in the living room for the past month. I hugged my husband and my son, beckoned Lucy’s spirit closer, and let the tears come.

She didn’t really die at 6:15. She was already gone when I found her and the paramedics never got any response. I estimate it was between 4:15 and 5:00. But 6:15 was the moment it became official and it is the time recorded on the death certificate. So, 6:15 it is.

It felt good to cry and mourn. It helps me feel closer to her. It makes me feel like I’m reacting normally. Much of the time, I feel like a heartless freak, because I feel fine.  I immerse myself in life and hopes for the future. I know that is just my way of coping. It works for me. But it makes me feel like a bad mom that I don’t feel like the world has ended. I get sad and angry. I miss her and wish she was still here. I wish she had never been sick. But life goes on and I know that. It has gone on every time something bad has happened to me. Every time I have lost someone. This loss sucks more than any other. It sucks and it’s just plain wrong. But I still have so much to live for. And I wouldn’t trade my time with Lucy for anything.

So, today, I snuggled my son. I watched TV with him. I took him shopping for a Father’s Day present for his Daddy. (He picked it out and paid for it with his own money. It was so cute.) I thought about and loved and cried for my daughter. We reminisced and laughed about discovering Lucy’s first tooth during Max’s bedtime routine one night. I laughed over the silly alternate lyrics Max concocted for the lullabies I was singing. That was today. One month out. Sadness and joy and so much love.

I’m looking forward to dinner with my husband after I finish this post. I’m looking forward to the future. Watching Max grow. Having more children. Somehow, we will take Lucy with us on that journey.