We had our first hard frost last night, the leaves have almost all fallen from the trees… suddenly, it’s mid-November. It’s been three months of navigating through grief. Things have their way of moving on whether you want them to or not. There is a large part of me that will never move on, and I don’t want it to. The love I feel for Lucy continues to grow and because of that, she will always be with me. That’s something you don’t ever move on from.

I know my previous post was bleak, but I guess that’s what two twelve hour days in a classroom will do to pretty much anyone. I’m not saying that to dismiss my feelings from the other day- everything I wrote was totally what I feel rather often now. Much of the shine in my life does feel like it’s gone, but it isn’t like that every moment. I am good at playing the parts required of me, and I even smile a lot again, but most of that is just me returning to old habits again. It’s exhausting to be weighted down by the effects of grief and interact with so many people for such a long stretch of time each day. Not much of a choice though and I need a paycheck. I know joy will enter my life again sometime, I do have faith in that, but it might be a long stretch to wait. Until then, I guess I’ll keep going through the motions. Sidenote: I was back in the classroom for only four days before I caught the cold that is running rampant around there! I know that is NOT helping my mood or perspective.

I keep having random flashbacks to my pregnancy with Lucy. This morning I was sitting in our front room and I suddenly remembered the ridiculous frustration I had felt when all of the mountains of baby stuff was just sitting in there, waiting for what seemed like an eternity to be put away. Chris had been working diligently (and stressfully!) to finish the two bedrooms (ours and Lucy’s) with enough time to spare for everything to be put away. I wish now I hadn’t stressed out so much. I remember trying to picture myself sitting on the couch with a newborn, wondering (and stressing over) if I’d get the hang of breastfeeding… I remember having been so worried about that. I miss the excitement and anticipation we felt as we envisioned life with our baby girl that we just couldn’t wait to meet. It truly is the happiest story with the saddest ending. (I borrowed that line from McCracken’s An Exact Replica of a Figment of My Imagination) So much lost. We won’t ever be able to go back to that innocence we once had; I think there will always be a hint of a shadow cast over everything.