Making it

Dear Stevie,
"How are you?"

I get that (seemingly) simple question a lot these days. I've struggled with how to answer it. I can't say "good." That would be a lie. "Alright" doesn't quite cut it either. Can't say, "horrible, actually. It feels like my heart has been ripped out of my chest and trampled on a thousand times," because that would probably really freak some people out. So my standard response has become, "I'm making it."

I'm making it.

I'm going through the motions everyday. I wake up, I cry, I take a shower (most days anyway), I get dressed (sometimes even in something other than sweatpants!), I make myself eat something, I go to work (or whatever other "activity" I have planned for the day), I drive home, I cry, I make myself eat some more, I go online, I watch TV, I cry, I take the dogs for a walk, I watch some more TV, I get ready for bed, I have another good cry, I fall asleep.

Sometimes in there I smile, sometimes even laugh. Most of the time though, I am numb.

Yes, I am making it through each day. But when do I get to go from just "making it through" to actually living again? Because I assure you, what I am doing right now is not really living. There is a stark, stark difference between the two.

I keep thinking when I'm pregnant again, then I can start really living. Once I have another child (you know, one that I actually get to keep!), then I can start living again. But what I am supposed to do in the meantime? Who knows how long it will be until we get pregnant again. 6 months? A year? Three years? Never? I feel like I'm in limbo. Part of me wishes I could somehow sleep through this period of time between losing you and having another baby. Someone please wake me up when it's time to be happy again!

I'm really trying to do more than just make it through for you, Baby, but I'm not doing a very good job. I know you'd want me to appreciate each day of my life for the gift that I know it is, but it's so, so hard to truly live without you in my life. I say it all the time, but I just miss you. I miss you, I miss you, I miss you.

Love,
Mom

Ps. I tried wearing mascara for the first time since you died today. Bad idea.