It is good to be here and devastating. Reminders everywhere. I sleep better than I have in days. Your sister falls asleep with her arm over me – she is also feeling the effects of your sudden disappearance. I am grateful to be alive, to be snuggled up next to her. You were supposed to be here too. I don’t understand.
Being home. I want to check out. Watch a movie. Read a book. Bury my head in the sand. Ada needs me, wants me to witness her aliveness. She has my physical presence but inside I’m not fully here and I know she can feel it. Somehow I need to take care of myself and of her. I’ve never done this before. This wasn’t how the juggling act was supposed to go.
I look in my closet and can’t figure out clothes. Nothing’s right anymore. The maternity clothes have become my mourning wear. I’ll never be pregnant again. I start thinking about how to give them away but I won’t fit into my real clothes for a while.
I think of my moby wrap, tucked away in a corner. I’ll never carry you in it, your warmth against my chest.