I let myself cry tonight. I watched the slideshow I made for him and I felt the tears well up in my eyes and I cried. I looked from his face to hers and back again.
I think for the most part I've been in a fog these past 10 weeks. I look at the pictures from the first few weeks that Hannah was home with us and I can see it written all over my face. I thought I could handle it- that no one else could tell, but I was kidding myself.
The sadness, the confusion, the exhaustion of trying to keep it all together... it was all there. One thing that strikes me the most is the emptiness I felt. My arms still felt empty even though they were never without Hannah for very long.
Now that the fog is lifting, I understand better.
I miss him. I feel his absence in ways I couldn't before. I didn't know what it was like to hold your child and have their eyes lock with yours. I couldn't imagine what his cries would sound like or what expressions he would make.
It's an adjustment. It's been confusing and frustrating. I don't want to lock my grief into a closet and hide it away. I don't want to ignore it anymore; this only serves in adding to the fog.
The grief roller-coaster never tires of sending me into a tailspin. I didn't know that my arms could be so full and yet still hold so much emptiness.
I have to learn to live with my grief now that my arms hold more than just emptiness.