Feeling Exhausted!

Today I am just tired.

Tired, tired, tired.

I feel like I am carrying this heavy weight around with me all of the time, and I can't seem to find a way to put it down. I wake up, trudge through my busy days...getting Liam ready for school or daycare, getting us dressed for the frigid weather outside, getting Liam into the van, getting Liam dropped off, work, suppers to prepare (or help clean up after...I don't cook too often. It's better that way!), bathtime, stories to read, clothes to put out for the next day, toys to pick up, dishes to finish. All very normal things. Things I enjoy doing! But lately by the time I am finally able to just "sit" at the end of the day...I am just beat. 

Emotionally, physically and mentally just exhausted.

Is it horrible to admit that I am just tired about thinking of my dead son?  I am tired of even having a dead son.  I am tired of seeing his perfect face every single time I close my eyes, and knowing that  will never see it again in this lifetime.  I am tired of feeling so cheated and so defeated.  I am tired of seeing reminders of pregnancy everywhere, and thinking "that should be me still!"  I am tired of questioning everything I thought I knew about life. 

I am tired of pretending like I am back to "normal" when I am at work.  I am tired of acting "normal" but feeling so completely not normal.  I am tired of wondering whether or not today is the day I finally lose it.  How can I be coping this well?  Should I still be at home, unable to leave my bed like other babyloss mothers I have heard from?   

I am tired of my heart breaking on a daily basis every single time I read about another mother who has lost her baby.  I feel like I need to be a part of this community.  This group of woman who have gone down the road I am on, and who have survived (are surviving?).  But I pay a price for it.  I feel this immense sadness for each and every person touched by the death of their child, and often go to bed with the names of dead babies in my head.  Because each of them had weight in this world and their names deserve remembrance.

I am tired of talking about death.  All of the time.  Like it is such a normal thing to talk about.  I sometimes find myself discussing things like urns and autopsy's like they are a normal part of conversation, until I catch this glimmer of horror in the face of whomever I am talking to, and I remember that they are still on the other side.

I am tired of trying to gauge my emotions.  Am I happy right now? Sad? Angry? What the hell am I feeling?  Am I ready to start trying to conceive another child? If not now, when? Will I ever be truly ready again?  What if this happens again? What if we have a girl next time and Liam is the only boy on Bills side of the family, but he's not really the only boy because of Oliver.

Gah! I am just....tired.  And cranky tonight apparently. Maybe I will diverge into another happier topic... 

Valentines Day is tomorrow, and I could care less.  Weird.  I am more excited that it is pajama day at Liams preschool and I have wrangled my work schedule so that I can at least drop him off.  I so badly want to have the picture of him running off in his monster pjs and slippers, to keep me company throughout my day tomorrow.  How I adore this boy!  I watched him in the tub tonight, all long limbs and big smiles, and wondered when it was that I blinked and he grew into a "boy" and not a "baby."  He is such a constant source of amazement and wonder for me.  And probably the only true reason that I am coping as well as I am right now.  His laughter and zest for life are so contagious, I just get swept up.  And I am totally content to live in his world for awhile.  On the floor, happily playing with trains and cars, and wondering when it is time for a peanut butter sandwich. How I wish Ollie could join us! He would probably adore his big brother as much as I do.