We're only 48 hours away from one of the greatest holidays of the year. A holiday that requires no presents, no money spent, no expectations of what to give and receive. It's a holiday about families and friends and being okay with being lazy for twenty-four hours to just think, "man, I have good people in my life."
November 23. I would be 17 weeks along right now. In three weeks, we would be finding out if we would be welcoming into our lives a baby girl or boy. But we will not. Weeks have passed since that horrible day in our lives and to the outside world, I'm moving along just fine.
We're going about our daily routines, waking up on the weekends together and sitting back to enjoy a Sunday paper.
But I'd be lying if I tell you that I didn't think about it everyday. I think about how I would be unpacking my box in the basement labeled "maternity," joking with Philip about my rapidly expanding belly. Instead, the box is still taped up and I do my very best to not comment on the situation. Because sometimes, sometimes I think the less I talk about it, the less it will hurt. Will time heal things? Perhaps. But I know I won't feel truly back to myself until a new little one is on the way.
So what do I do now? I laugh when there's something to laugh about, smile when I look at our precious twenty-one month old, and cry when I just can't hold it all together. And if that all fails? We play.
Gymboree style, of course.
Because who wouldn't have fun at a place that makes you smile this big?
And the bubbles.... oh, those bubbles.
One of the greatest things about kids is that they just go for it. They dive right in.
Every little thing that comes into life is new and exciting and they just eat it right up.
Life, that is. They don't know anyway else to live, but to just eat every good thing up.
And that's what helps heal my soul. Because how can I let this go by and now want to jump right in and celebrate life with him.
And in other news, we have big things to celebrate. Hello, our first successful visit to the potty.
It took five times reading our potty book, but Little Man did it.
Went potty in his potty and then wiped it all up.
And, oh my, we cheered. We ran around the house, clapping and dancing and calling Yaya and celebrating a very big-boy thing my little one did.
And today, we began our celebration. Packed up and headed out to the crafts store and brainstormed about what we would make. We were very, very busy.
We cut and glued, and cut and glued some more... and we ended up gluing a whole lot because Jacob really was intrigued by the bottle of glue. And when he was sick of gluing, he ran and tossed a whole pile of our felt into the toilet. And momma did everything to keep from laughing as she put him timeout because our arts and crafts do not go in the toilet, Little One.
And when the finishing touches were being put on, a few pieces of Great Grandma Rose's lace that she used to use....
....when everything was all glued up and together....
....when we observed that Momma is not the best cutter in the world but, hey, no one's perfect....
We stood back and celebrated again. Our project. Our preparation for the greatest holiday this year.
And while our days aren't always peachy perfect, we get by. Because when it's all said and done, we have each other and that, my friends, is something to be so thankful about.