I woke up on my birthday to a foot of snow and spent the day penned in with the family. The kids played, drank hot chocolate, ate too much candy, watched too much tv, and destroyed the house as even the best children are apt to do when trapped inside with their parents for too long. And I was fine, for most of it, occasionally reverting to sullen when people asked me how I was. It seems right now the best thing to do is to not ask me how I am - too much reflection seems to access a sadness I'm rarely willing to deal with right now. I think I am again firmly in Fake it 'till you make it land. And that's ok, for the record. It might not be acceptable to some people, but it's fine for me. The beautiful thing about life is that it goes on. It keeps moving forward no matter how much you want everything to stop. This was horrifically painful during our first miscarriage, but now carries a comfort with it. We will be okay. We will recover. We will move forward.
So, Happy Birthday to me. As we like to say on bad days around here, it's time to push the reset button.
Happy belated birthday! I hope this new year brings the comfort and the third child you seek! :)
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