Grace Through Grief

I did not realize how hard it would be to sit down and write the second part of Wyatt's story. Frankly, I've been ignoring my laptop for the last couple days to avoid it. Fact of the matter is... even though I'm 'good' most of the day, it has only been two weeks since we found out he had no heartbeat. That is such a short period of time -- although it feels like forever.

This is me right now:

Literally. I spent yesterday going through every nook and cranny in our garage. Armed with a shop vac, pesticide, and cleaning rags. Today is the grand convert-the-guest-bedroom-into-a-playroom  task. I've filled up two carloads to take to our local consignment shop. Frankly, I'm terrified when the moment comes that I will run out of baseboards to clean, closets to organize, and crap to purge.

I've always known that my grace through grief was to keep moving. Literally... work until my body tells me that I can't do anymore. I've gotten to that point daily since coming home from the hospital. At night, when the kids are asleep and I'm too tired to move... that's when the water works show up. Uncontrollable sobbing. For someone who understands the situation and that maybe having another baby right now when Bug and Pup are so little would have been past overwhelming, it is tough.

Mr. Wonderful has lived up to his moniker lately, as well. I've tried keeping his thoughts on the situation and our communication lines open. As tough as this has all been, it has been good for our marriage.

So... what does all this mean to you, reader? Well, first... thanks for letting me spew verbal vomit out to the world. Sometimes getting things off your heart helps. Second, if you have or are going through the same situation, I'm hoping that reading this blog sometime in the future (days, weeks, months, or years it is up on the internet) helps you.

Photo courtesy of Hyperbole and a Half.