Time limbo

It's a tricky space that I'm in. I say that because I have two sons, but am in a sort of limbo where I cannot physically hold either of them in my arms, cannot breathe in their special little smells, cannot snuggle them in close. I realize that one is literally living inside me, being carried around within his little home in the center of my body inches away from his brother, who now lives deep in my heart. The problem is that I feel as though I am stuck in a waiting game, a game that will end when one is birthed yet continue on every single day. 

Everyone has someone or something that they devote most of their energy to (or maybe more than one specific person or thing), and hopefully they get a sense of fulfillment from this. I personally loved taking care of my boy, and it gave me a feeling of immense purpose being with him. I took time for myself when he napped or played, and like any job it took a while to get into the swing of things. But once our routine was established, we were somewhat smooth sailing. Under it all I just loved being with him. Caius was so curious that I was able to reach back to a place of discovering things through his eyes. He was so outgoing that he started conversations that likely wouldn't have started without him. Caius was all my favorite things about his dad and I, and not having him here is still so hard every single day.

We are at a time where Caius has been gone for as long as he was here. Seven months have passed since our seven month old left us. Grief has left my brain in a sort of scramble, where days and weeks and months have turned into an indistinguishable clump of time. I can track time before April, but things that have happened since could have occurred last week or three months ago. Ask me when I last went to the dentist, I would guess last year. When I check my calendar I see it was August, a month that feels both fairly recent but at the same time a million years ago. I now operate with three calendars- one at home, one I carry in my purse and one on my phone. I often don't remember booking appointments but I go to them, speaking with counsellors and psychologists and psychiatrists. I follow their suggestions and stick to the routines I have created with their help. I read the articles they provide, do the exercises they assign. And I do have a lot of ok days. But it is still hard.

My biggest obstacle aside from the enormous and ever-present feeling of MISSING is purpose. Maybe you too have felt this after a life change. I have had many roles in my life that provided a sense of purpose. Most recently as a mother, and as a teacher before that. I loved these jobs for they gave me energy and direction and filled me up. I wanted to succeed because I knew I could help the kids I was working with, and I was motivated to give Caius the best life I could give him. Now I am in a place where time seems to be both standing still and flying by without me. Much of my enthusiasm has dried up and left me tired and feeling without reason. I am impatiently waiting the days out until March, but the days get long. I keep well for the sake of our next son, because he deserves a healthy mother and loads of love too. I seek help from various sources because I want to be prepared for anything that arises when he gets here. I want to be mentally strong for sad days and triggers. This doesn't necessarily give me energy, nor does it fill me up, but it does give me some sense of direction. And so the days go on.

Time is a very fickle thing. Sometimes we know how much we have, sometimes we do not. I know I have about two hours and twenty eight minutes left of battery life on this computer, I know my kick boxing class will last approximately forty five minutes this afternoon. I know I have around ninety five more days until I meet the newest member of our family. I suppose my counselling session today will feel longer than my work out, because sometimes activities that take the same amount of time can feel as though they are in fact different. But I know with certainty that seven months with Caius were a lot more full than the past seven months. I know which day we started swimming lessons, I know how old he was when he first sat up on his own and got his first tooth. I know these moments because they were so important to me. Maybe my memory hasn't been as clear lately because nothing since his passing has mattered as much. I am in a time limbo. Eleven months between sons are passing like a blur. Ninety five days or less to go, and then I feel like I will be alive once more.

And I couldn't be more excited.

Chantal