Writing has always been a source of solace for me.

watercolor of a fountain pen on a brown desk
Image created via Midjourney

Writing has always been a source of solace for me. I write when I am happy and I write when I am hurting; many times that is the best way I can express myself.

Writing the past few weeks has been through a river of tears, but I have gritted my teeth and done it anyway, knowing that when I am done, I will feel a small weight lifted as emotions that I may have been bottling up are released.

I had to take a deep, deep breath yesterday as I packed away all of my early ultrasound photos into the box of mementos that I've gathered for Nelle.

I can still hear the doctor's voice when he did the ultrasound — by then we knew it was a girl — and he said "She looks perfect" as he handed me the pictures. Now it seems so long ago.

Yesterday, while in the car, Theo told me that he was afraid of dying. I tried to ease his fears by telling him that we are all healthy and he doesn't need to worry about that.

I hesitantly said "What happened to the baby is really rare – it doesn't happen very often. You don't need to worry about that."

This morning, Quentin brought me a toy syringe from a doctor's kit and said "Here Mommy, I brought you medicine." He then proceeded to "inject" it into my stomach, saying it was "for the baby."

I am going to attempt to ease back into work this morning, starting with just getting caught up on emails and my projects – trying to figure out where everything is at. Ger started back at the office yesterday and was greeted with "Nothing got done while you were gone. Can you work overtime this week?" FSS.

I took a walk yesterday afternoon, and this morning convinced Theo to take a short walk around the block with me. Depending on how the morning goes, I may be taking another walk this afternoon.

While on the trail near our house yesterday, I felt the urge to run, but since I haven't run in months and because my body is so tired, I didn't think that would be a good idea. Walking for now.

A young boy wearing an orange shirt, shorts, and flip flops running down a sidewalk in a residential neighborhood
Walking with my son through our neighborhood 

I feel very heavy this morning. The burden of needing to pick up and to keep going while keeping my mind occupied.

Writing Grief
I am struggling to find ways to stay grounded.
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