It's so cliche to say that I don't know how to find the words... while writing.
We slept last night. That in itself is a gift from God (and ambien). And I awoke to the sounds of Andrew. It's difficult for the sadness to overwhelm me when my heart is feeling so much love, and my children definitely fill my heart with love.
There are so many moments that I need to go back and capture in writing. I'm hoping I can do it, that I can sit here as long as it takes today and walk myself through the last 4 days. That I can remember the details, the moments and live through the emotions.
It's amazing how strong the human brain can be. I go from feeling so detached that there is no emotion, and then a small crack starts. Soon the damn is bursting. Reality sets in, and I can't block the memories of our sweet little girl. I can't pretend that she is still in my tummy, that this journey is still unknown. I really thought we would have our doors open wide to visitors when we got home, that we would be encouraging people to drop by and meet Abby. I believed her time would be short, but I really believed she would come home.
Instead we are trying to keep our doors open to visitors because it's a welcome distraction for us and the kids. A distraction that helps us ignore the absence even if only for a moment. When we can open the door and smile to see a visitor, that split second before we acknowledge why they are here.
There are moments when I feel strong, as I made breakfast this morning, cuddled with the kids, talked with my in-laws. But the truth is, I am also strong when I let myself sit here and cry. When I close my eyes and sob with the pain that fills my body, when I really allow myself to live this journey and accept how much it hurts. I'm thankful for both types of strength, I'm thankful that God has given me the ability to live and to embrace everything that comes with that gift.