Today is my first (partial) day back in my usual schedule. The past two weeks have been a whirlwind of tears and anger and pain and just about everything bad. We spent a week in California, then my mom, aunt, and sister were here last week. They went home yesterday, and Sterling went back to work today (after taking me to my doctors appointment this morning) so now it's just me and Brynleigh, like it used to be. It's a little lonely since I've been surrounded by people the last two weeks. But I know it'll be good to get back to regular life.
It's a strange place I'm in now. I still feel like I should be pregnant. When I think of the months to come, I have to remind myself plans have changed. I have to return my bridesmaid dress for my sister's wedding next month, since it'll be too big now. My best friend is getting married in June, and there's no longer the question of whether I'll be in the hospital giving birth or if I'll be driving a toddler and brand new baby to California for it.
When Brynleigh pulls up my shirt to rub my belly, it's not a cute thing anymore, it makes me cry. That flutter I felt in my stomach is my lunch being digested, not baby feet kicking me. All the emails for Zulily maternity sales aren't needed. I should be planning a new workout schedule to be starting in a month from now, not worrying about getting the girl's bedroom painted before my due date.
And the toughest realization of all? A mile or two down the road, in that cemetery I've driven by hundreds of times, there's a tiny little grave, covered by flowers I bought, and a sweet little body that lived inside of me for six months.
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