Fourteen weeks. Fourteen Tuesdays since the worst Tuesday of our lives.
Ninety eight days. Ninety eight days since the silent doppler and ultrasound. Since coming home and staring at the wall with Scott. Since waiting for the phone call to tell us we could head to the hospital.
In many ways, it feels like my life has become a paradox since that Tuesday.
Time has moved so slowly, and yet it feels like fourteen weeks ago was yesterday.
I can tell you exactly how many days or weeks it has been since July 5 or since July 9, and yet when it comes to anything else I seem to only vaguely remember if it was “before” or “after.”
My heart is so heavy with grief, and yet so full with the love and support of our friends, family, and community.
I remember tiny details about things like conversations, the days between July 5 and July 9 and so many other things, yet so much of my life over these past three months seems like a blur.
I am incredibly forgetful, and yet more attentive than I remember ever being in my entire life.
I feel so incredibly weak in the aftermath of loss and grief, and yet so strong because day by day I am surviving the unimaginable.
I swing between deep despair and tremendous hope.
I cry tears of sadness as well as tears of hope and joy.
Some days I want to just sit in the darkness of this season and this grief, and other days I want to run–run–toward the future.
I feel physically exhausted, but crave the late night conversations I have with dear friends.
Some days I feel absolutely nothing, completely numb, and other days I feel all the feels so fully.
I am both withdrawn and deeply invested in friendships and community.
I want desperately to retreat into my fortress of solitude, and yet want so badly to accept invitations to be with people because I need community in my life.
I have trouble focusing on many things, and yet intently focused and motivated by others.
I cry uncontrollably and I laugh uncontrollably.
There is so much paradox in this life after loss. So much of this and yet that. So many highs and so many lows. Grief is a strange thing like that. It has left life very much the same as it was, and yet so very different. It can’t be fixed. It can’t be changed. It is what it is.
And, I’m continuing to take it. One. Paradoxical. Day. At. A. Time.