anxiety

Life continually shows me that I’m never what I really think I am. If you ask me how I’m doing, I would tell you that given my journey, I’m doing really well. But something occurred to me tonight.

When Logan passed, I threw myself into creating 5 Shutterfly books to represent Logan’s journey. The first book was our maternity photos. The second was our professional pictures from his birth-day. The third book is of his life from birth-day to day 11. The fourth book is day 12 through the funeral. And the fifth book is our professional photos from the funeral. Book 3 came in today; and as I was flipping through the book, I found myself slowing and looking indepthly at his pictures. I found myself looking at this film roll in my head, remembering what it was like to hold Logan. To cuddle him. To kiss him. Remembering the way his wrinkly skin felt against my cheeks, my lips, my chest. And I began to feel something in me change. It’s hard to describe, but it later turned into a shallow rabbit hole.

While traveling this journey in my head, I began to realize that, while I haven’t forgotten Logan, and I still actively think about him. I’m not indepthly thinking about him. I’m not allowing myself to really remember Logan, either by choice or my body’s own “fight or flight.” Tiffany (our photographer and now friend) posted Logan’s birth video on her business page. (She is an amazing and gifted woman. If you haven’t heard of her, she’s worth checking out! T.Marie Photography :-)) I haven’t watched Logan’s birth video since a few days after his funeral 3 weeks ago. The last time I watched his slideshow, I was spiraled into the deepest rabbit hole I’ve met to date. I don’t think I was avoiding his video, but rather I thought I didn’t need to watch his video. If you haven’t watched it, again I defer back to T. Marie Photography’s Facebook page. Make sure you grab some tissues, the video is very touching. I have so many emotions, I have yet to put down on paper about this video, but trust me, once I do, it’ll be insightful and probably emotional (as always).

To backstory today, I should tell you that I’ve been off work for 6 weeks. I work as a Dental Assistant in a small practice. Everyone there knows I was pregnant when I left, have inquired about me since my absence, and I go back on Monday. Tomorrow I go in just to break the ice, to desensitize myself to the office, if you will. We’re technically closed on Fridays, so the atmosphere won’t be so chaotic and overwhelming. I have had some lingering anxiety and qualms about going back to work. Sometimes I’ve even thought, just forget it, I’ll get another job so I won’t have to face all the questions about my baby I’m sure to have waiting for me. Or even worse, the awkward silence because they already know and don’t know what to say. There is nothing worse than feeling like the elephant in the room. The weird tenseness that collects in the room is like static electricity. It’ll jolt you when you least expect it, and then the tears start flooding. So I think the stage for todays rabbit hole was already being set.

I moved on from the book and grabbed myself a margarita. (Don’t judge me, I haven’t had a drink in 9 months) I’m not an alcoholic by any means, one drink is usually all this lady can handle, but since Logan passed, I have found a comfort in eating my margarita. And when I say eat, I mean eat. It’s like an icee. It barely has any alcohol in it at all, and lets be honest, even if it did, pretty sure that would be my choice, so on second thought, go ahead and judge me all you want 🙂 Josh had gotten up (he works an odd schedule, so his sleep pattern is weirder than the average person) and we talked about things that kept my mind on my new Logan book. Wyatt however, in this time had picked up the book and began looking at it. He spent about 20 minutes looking at the book before I asked him if he wanted to bring it into the bedroom and look at it together. By the time I made it into the bedroom, he was curled up with his dad sobbing. He was missing his brother. (There’s my countdown to the final curtain)

I opened my Facebook to see Tiffany had posted our video, and cue the curtain, the floodgates opened. I can’t watch that video without losing my inhibitions. Something in me aches. And now I find myself, in front of this computer, typing to you, or perhaps just to me. I have no idea who is following this blog.

On the bright side, or lighter side? This rabbit hole is teaching me something, instead of holding me down, it’s giving me building blocks to climb back out. I need to allow myself to really remember Logan. To remember how he feels and smells. Otherwise those memories will fade, and all I will have left are pictures and videos that map my memory for me. That’s no way to honor my baby. It’s okay to be okay. But I also realize that in moments when I least expect it, and with the most random of things, I will step in quicksand. I will slip a tear or even a flood of tears out. Maybe not necessarily all out of sadness, but out of immense love. One thing I know for sure is how deeply I love that child, the greater the pain the greater the love. I also realize that just because I step in quicksand, doesn’t mean it’ll drag me down. It doesn’t mean I’m grieving wrong, or not enough. I’m grieving just right for me, my family and for my Logan.

4 thoughts on “anxiety

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