Cracking wide open

February 2, 2009

Something about the snow melting, the sun peeking out, the grass turning green, and the trees beginning to bud (way too optimistically, in my opinion) is cracking me wide open again.  I’ve been crying more these last few days, I’ve been missing my boy so much that the ache fills me up until the tears just leak out.

And today is a crying day. I just keep crying. It’s been over five months and I still want Teddy back, still miss him, miss those chances of getting to know him that I never had. My world just seems wrong without him here.

I work late tonight, so this morning I ran some errands – picked up a new yoga mat (I really am going back to yoga tomorrow), some bird seed, and some groceries. On the way home the tears just started running down my face, and by the time I pulled up to our house I was sobbing, bent over in the car with my head pressed into the steering wheel, wondering how I’d get through this day.

I went inside, cried some more, unpacked the groceries, put some mail in the mailbox, did some dishes, drank a diet coke, and watched the tail end of an episode of Dr. Who.  I packed my lunch, planned a care package for my newly-pregnant sister-in-law, counted to 20, and drove into work.  I just have to make it through this one day, and I’ll do it an hour at a time, one task at a time, one breath at a time. It feels harder than it should, but what do I know, really?  How hard should it be, or can it be, or will it be?  I don’t know.

I don’t know.

Last year at this time I was watching things start to grow while thinking of what was growing inside me, and I was so astonished and surprised and happy. I was part of Spring, part of the green and growing things.  I started to feel in touch with my baby, to feel protective, to talk to him.  I was so certain I was blessed, and maybe I was. I don’t think I am now –  I’m not sure what I am now, besides foggy-eyed from too much crying, and tired and short-tempered.  But maybe Spring is cracking me open for a reason.  Maybe there’s some ice flow inside of me that needs to be washed away with salty teardrops. Perhaps some of my scar tissue was set wrong and needs to break open, bleed, and heal again, heal differently.

I remind myself again that this isn’t linear, that I’m not failing by falling back, and it helps, but I still hate this.



  1. You are not falling back at all, it’s just the way this road goes. And knowing that really doesn’t make it easier or better in anyway does it. I’m sorry you are having a hard day. You mentioned going back to yoga. I found it very healing, but hard . . . it cracked me open the way spring seems to be cracking you. It let loose lots of emotions deeply trapped within me. May spring bring you some hope in addition to cracking you open.

  2. (HUGS)

    And I don’t think that I had stopped crying yet at five months out. No need to be hard on yourself. It’s better to let your emotions come, feel them, think about them like you are. Way better than bottling them up.

  3. Some days are just crying days.

    This is going to have to turn into a blogpost of my own, but I just wrote the following in an email to a friend today:

    Its like I’ve been ripped wide open and have no choice but to share what’s inside…its all oozing out anyway.

    And yes, nothing about grief is linear…feels like the understatement of the century now that I’m living it.

  4. i hate hearing grief referred to as a process, implying there is an end in sight. to me, i know full well i have the rest of my life to process this. so i figure there is no hurry. i’m only 29. 29 and i got lumped with this. i hate it all, too.

  5. Just when I think I’ve run out of tears, another bucketfull appears from within. I know.
    Thinking of you and sending hugs x

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