Right Where I Am: Three Years, Three Months

I read Angie's intro, then came here to write before reading her post.

Yesterday, I had been thinking about where I am with my grief. Timely, that Angie.

***

Three years, three months, 19 days after Serenity died, and where am I? Well, I had to count how many months since her three-year 'birthday', so that's different. I don't even note the 'sixth' of the month much anymore.

The pain and the ache are here, deep inside. And hard to express. Not just 'hard to talk about' or 'hard to show others'; but hard to get out for my own examination, experience, expression. Sometimes I feel like I need a good emotional release, a purge, a wallow, yet nothing comes. No body racking sobs, just a long face.

I know that I have accepted 'dead baby mama' as my reality. Very few "I should have a three year old" thoughts in my mind. I can even handle the gaggle of three-year-old girls that live on my block and gang up on my developmental-timeline imaginings. Three three-year-old girls, with one missing. I don't wonder anymore if it is only to my eye that one is missing. I don't need for others to see it. But I do feel that my neighbor and the mother of one of the girls does.

And I can feel love for Serenity's little shadow baby. Born a week after Serenity and also half-Asian/half-Caucasian. She is a sweet and cute girl, with a ready smile, and likes to color. I can hear her from her porch when she comes out and sees Bea and me in our yard, "Mommy, Bea is out, let's go plaaaaay." 

And I can play.