Waking up is the worst part I think. I don't wake up with active thoughts about what happened, or my girls, or anything else specific. But the moment I wake up I have that realization that I'm about to start yet another day of dull grieving. And that I have to figure out how to pass the next 14 or 16 hours until I can go back to sleep again.
I'm not ready to do a whole lot. My abdomen is still somewhat sore, I don't know what my boobs have been doing for the last 48 hours but they've certainly been active with the growing and the firming and the leaking and the deflating, and I still have another week of the two weeks my doctor told me to take it easy.
And even though I'm probably in an emotional place to leave the house, I normally stick around home as much as I can this time of year anyway. Traffic is awful, especially since we got a dusting of snow (Seattle freaks out in the snow), and every public place is just crawling with tired, angry, and frustrated people. Add on top of that the fact that kids aren't in school at the moment and parents are doing their best to keep the kids entertained with trips to the mall and other pubic activities this week....I might be in a place to start facing the average number of kids in public, but the last 2 weeks of December are overload under the best of circumstances.
So I'm kind of waiting until January gets underway so I can get underway myself.
K is risking it. He's going grocery shopping, auditioned for a show, went to a movie at the mall today. Slowly immersing himself back into the world. And he's reporting back to me the random little stings that he's surviving. Like the friend he hadn't seen in a while who asked if he's a dad yet. And glancing at the play area of the mall on his way to the movie.
He should be going back to work like normal next week. These little excursions are kind of like practice so I don't go from having him here all the time to suddenly being alone all day.
Hardly any crying today. And not really thinking specifically about what's upsetting me yet still being just generally unhappy.
It's just the flat, dull stage of grieving. No active grieving stages presenting themselves, very little actual crying as a release, moments of feeling the need to move forward mixed with feelings that I'm sad that it's getting farther and farther away from me in time. I want it to have happened yesterday forever. I don't want it to have been a week ago, a month ago, a year ago. Not ready to move forward, but getting sick of being stuck here.