I'm just Sad.

The word "sad" doesn't even seem to cover the range of thoughts I have. I miss my little guy so much and it always hits me right in the chest at the most random times. I wouldn't say today was a good day, but I also wouldn't say today was a bad day. I'm finally getting some peace and quiet at the end of the day scrolling the social medias, and break down in tears. There was no "real" reason, but just sobs. Because I'm sad.

And I feel guilty for being sad. How dumb is that. I miss my little guy so much. My even keel, usually 'easy' child, spunky, funny, brilliant, but still picked fights with his sisters like any little boy. He'd go play by himself and you could just watch his little brain figure stuff out. He loved to come cuddle with me on the couch. And I'm so sad that I don't get to hold him like that anymore, even though I used to get annoyed that his tiny little elbow would dig into my boob.

For years now I've lived the new mom survival mode life. New mom, plus covid, new mom plus working full time, new mom plus the transition to being a stay at home mom. HARD. Hard on your body, hard on your mind, hard on your marriage. But honestly in the last year since having Evelyn our family felt so complete. There was this light at the end of the tunnel of hard and survival. In July and August I was finally feeling like I could breath a little easier, the season of hard was coming to an end. But WOW was I wrong. Hard has about 100 more layers to it, and somehow as time marches on the layers seem to be adding instead of retracting.

Our complete family has a gaping hole, right there in the middle. My mama heart has a hole. I've been making changes. Positive ones. Trying to be a better human, christian, wife, mother. It all feels empty. Frivolous. Who cares if i'm a few pants sizes smaller. Who cares if we have money in the bank. Who cares what church I go or don't go to. Who cares if I improve as a wife and mother. I'm trying to channel the grief, but the cloud just hangs there hovering, sometimes heavier, sometimes lighter, but never gone.

I just want my little guy back. I just want to hear him say "I love you THREE!!" again. Or see him play with his cars on the fireplace. Or have to poke my head out back to make sure he's still in his corner of the yard watching the cars go by. "Mom, look, BLUE ONE!!" Not being able to watch him grow anymore... is HARD.

SAD: a. affected with or expressive of grief or unhappiness: DOWNCAST

b. causing or associated with grief or unhappiness: DEPRESSING

REGRETTABLE, DEPLORABLE

c. of little worth

Webster's dictionary

'Sad' doesn't seem to cover all the thing I'm thinking or feeling. Sad doesn't cover having to navigate this with Ivy as she throws tantrums because she doesn't know how to express her feelings. Sad doesn't cover that Evelyn won't remember her brother, even though they were obsessed with each other. Sad doesn't cover Jeff's grief and obviously loneliness as the only male in the house now. Sad doesn't cover how even the dogs know something is off. Sad doesn't cover the behind the scenes work of a mom, paying for headstones and handling insurance questions. Sad doesn't seem like a big enough word.

I've said many times that motherhood didn't come easily for me. It was the hardest thing I've ever done. I was so used to being responsible for only myself, and the selfish side of me didn't want to give that up. Now, I'd give anything to do the tiniest most menial of tasks for that little boy.

People have been wonderful, but everyone is moving on. Even my own siblings and parents. They all have their own lives and things happening, and even though its hard for them, they aren't here living in this house, his house. Everyone still asks frequently, "can I do anything?" And there's nothing anyone can DO to make it better. No amount of meals, or babysitting, or laundry help is going to make it better. Its appreciated, but it doesn't fix it. And from someone who always wants to jump into action and make it BETTER that might be the hardest part. The cloud just hangs there. The sad just sits on my chest.

The last thing I was able to do for him was wipe the blood off his face. And it breaks my heart that thats how my mothering of him ended. He still had camping dirt under his fingernails, and marker from his afternoon adventures all over his arms and legs. I never even was able to give him his rubbermaid bath that night, instead it was wet wipes on his face in an ER room.

"Sad" just doesn't seem to cover it.