I had such a nice evening with a good friend last night. We just sat and talked (and drank tea... which her husband will be happy to tease us about as we grow old and continue this habit).
It was nice to talk with her about different aspects of this grief process. We also talked about some of the challenges that have come with this journey.
We talked about the awkwardness that people around me are probably feeling. Should they or shouldn't they talk about Abby. Should they be careful to not use her name. Can they ask questions. Will talking about her bring me sadness.
She watched a video that I posted (that came from our pastor) about how grief is like a brick in your pocket. It feels very heavy at first, but after a while (a different amount of time for each person or circumstance) you get used to the weight of the brick. But from time to time you will be more aware of the brick and it's weight.
My brick doesn't always feel extremely heavy, but I am always aware of it. I have a constant inner dialog that reflects on what I am doing during my day and points out how the situation or my place in the situation is affected by my brick, by this journey, by my grief. It's not always negative, and I'm getting more used to the inner dialog. I think as I get into new habits and start to get comfortable there is less to be "talked" about in my head.
But no one can bring Abby up in conversation and catch me at a moment when she wasn't already on my mind. I'm always thinking of Abby, and I love to talk about her. I wish I had more memories to share, more moments to cling to.
I was just on Facebook and saw the picture that our friend Amy posted just after Abigail was born. I loved looking at that pic and remembering that precious moment when Trever and I could hold all four of our kids in our arms. I loved reading the comments that people had made on the photo. It reminds me of the miracle we were given to have Abby born alive.
I don't feel jealous of people with healthy children, well at least not jealous in a negative way. But I do tend to feel jealous of people who get to have more than one day with their child who has Trisomy 18. It's selfish but true.
Looking at that picture reminded me of how blessed we were. I know that so many families don't even get what we enjoyed. And it probably doesn't matter how much time we would have had... it never would have been enough.
Thank you Sweet Abby for spending time with us.