today.

Today I am lonely. More than the usual, everyday lonely. But oh the lows of hormonal and lonely. And overwhelmed. Quite overwhelmed. I need life to slow down, which typically means it will speed up. Totally uncaring that I need more time.

grief.

Honestly, it used to be a word I hated. I hated what it did to people, turned them into someone I didn't even recognize. Changed memories into something much prettier. Made regular people into saints. And made me feel lost.
I don't know how far I have come from those feelings. Mourning someone who hated tears is hard. But it has to be done. I guess I have been healing through stories and special days. Being a mama to littles makes grief harder and lso more bearable. There are no silent moments to cry and feel sad, when little ones are running around. But there are still moments, when you hold you newborn baby and want to call him to tell him he is an uncle, again. Or when you see so much of him in your babies and wish you could call to tell him. Those are the moments I have.
Grief can shape you in so many ways. It shaped our family size. I desperately wanted my children to have that bond with someone, to fight like cats and dogs, but want to die when they feel pain. To experience that bond at a young age is somethign I was blessed to have. I know for so many reasons this isn't common, but I dearly hope it takes place in our family.
6 and a half years later, I still miss him liek it was yesterday and finally I have stopped fighting it. Tears come and go more than I had planned, but my babies have become little children who understand how much Uncle Matty meant to mama. And thankfully I am confident they know how precious they would have been to him.

So, I have handed everyone back their right to grieve and set off with my own idea of what that means.

breathe in, breathe out

these moments, feeling her little fingers wrap around my neck, little body wiggling against my chest, and hearing her sweet little 2 year old humming against the side of my face. It takes me back to the little boy that first sat on this mama tummy as we swayed back and forth in the kitchen, summer of '05. No air conditioning, just the two of us, this boy who made me a mommy, rocking his baby sister to sleep. Soon he was followed by the snuggly little bald headed baby sister who danced with mama while her baby brother kicked mama from the inside. Little kisses, humming toddlers turned into big brothers and sisters. This is life for us. Welcoming our baby with a dance. Just mama and little one. Singing silly little songs that make their mama cry every time. Don't they see, we don't lose a baby, we add another little dancer. And when baby comes, a new part of each of my babies has been born. we tell our children they can't have too many friends, well you can't have too much love. And my babies give it freely to each other. I have seen it. sloppy little toddler kisses on a newborn baby face, little fingers tickling tiny, wrinkly toes. All of us wondering how we survived without this little person. How we ever thought of ourselves as whole before they arrived in our arms.

no, I don't lose a baby.
our family gains a whole new perspective.