All Tuesday long I spent not remembering what the day was. I was so focused on the fact that Wednesday B would be 9 months, that I pushed out of my mind what I usually thinking about on that day.
And then after she went to bed and I was alone (since Batman's working nights), I poured myself a glass of wine, remembered and cried.
My son would have been 6 years old.
Brynna would have her older brother to show her the ropes of life.
It's hard, looking back, remembering, imagining what our life would be like if Gabriel had lived. If he hadn't had triploidy.
I miss my son. I miss the lost time, the getting to know him, the watching him grow. I miss that 6 years of my life have passed and the wound still hurts, especially on July 20th.
Until B was born, Mother's Day was an especially hard day. Not only because of IF, but because I got to be someone's mom for just a moment in time and then... I wasn't.
But I've put it all back in a box. All the emotion, all the hurt, all the heartache. All the remembering. It's silly that I only allow myself one day a year to be really and truly sad (It's better if I compartmentalize it), but that's what works for me.
It's interesting that the day was easier than most years. I think Brynna helped make it that way. I got to hug on my girl when she was asleep and just cry. Cry for what I've lost and for what I have and what I'm thankful for.