Today, it has been five weeks since my little Teddy Graham died. The same number of weeks that he lived inside of me. So I have now been without him as long as I was with him. That’s weird. And sad.
It’s nice to have a few moments of joy and normalcy these days. I cry less and less. I laugh sometimes. An outsider, an acquaintance, would no longer see any change in me. I seem to be back to my old self.
Except I’m not. I’ve always been on the quiet and reserved side, but that has increased exponentially. I’m more guarded when I talk to people, especially my sister (another story, another day). I sleep more. I write more. I read more. I eat more. Thank God, I exercise more! I’ve lost motivation. I’ve lost hope, maybe even faith. But I also pray more. I’ve embraced those who have been a great support during this time, I’ve loved each of them even more than before, and I’ve left everyone else in the dust.
And I think about Teddy all the time. I can tell you that, had things gone as planned, today I would have been 12 weeks into my pregnancy. I probably would have had a doctor appointment, maybe heard the heartbeat on a doppler for the first time. Next week, I would have entered my second trimester and announced my pregnancy to everyone. Instead, I grieve.