I thought it would be a very long winter.
Benjamin, at 20 months, is a handful. He is demanding (you must sit right here, Mom!), he constantly tests us, and he is so, so active, climbing and jumping, and in general, getting into trouble. (Side note: He is also very, very sweet, likes to cuddle, and gives me lots of kisses). Today was supposed to be his last day of daycare until August. August!
I was supposed to be home with Ben and Lydie. I was so looking forward to my time with both of my children. But to be honest, I was worried about my sanity too; I'm not really one made to be a stay-at-home mom. I wondered how I would chase my active toddler
while breastfeeding my infant. I worried about the winter and how
much we'd be able to get out of the house. I worried that the days would seem so long before Justin came walking in the door. I was determined to go the
library regularly, have play dates with our neighbors, get out of the
house even though I knew it would be easier to stay in.
Sometimes I don't even realize all the plans I made in my head until I realize we no longer have them. Because we no longer have Lydie.
And now I realize: It is going to be a long winter.
Just for completely different reasons.
It is going to be a long winter because I am so damn brokenhearted that everyday is a struggle to get out of bed. It is going to be a long winter because I have trouble talking to my friends, trouble going out in public, trouble being consistent with my son because it's so much easier to give in, trouble being motivated to continue living without my daughter.
Everyone keeps telling me one day at a time. But that has never been how I function. And to ask someone who is inherently a planner (and a worrier) to take things one day at a time is such a challenge. I am fighting my own personality here.