I keep thinking about ‘normal’ and when
is it the right time to be ‘normal’ or at least act like it? My son died 8 days ago, how could I
be thinking about already needing to be normal? Since we first brought Brecken home,
I have hardly left our house. I’ve only stepped foot out into the cold to go to the funeral home,
take a break away from home at Courtney’s, and a double date night at the movies. All things I truly didn’t
want to do. Who want’s to talk about planning a funeral for their child? That day sucked enough as it was
knowing what I was leaving the house for. Things didn’t get better when we approached and stopped at
a stop light right next to the hospital he was born at. I just couldn’t contain myself. The tears, naturally,
started running down my face. It was too painful to look at because that’s where he was born, and it was also
where he was taken away. It was the hospital I left empty handed. Torry kindly avoided that route when we
went back home.
Hanging with Courtney was needed, but I still felt this pull of wanting to be back in my own home, surrounded
by Brecken’s things that are still randomly laying around our living room. The living room is where
he spent all of his time when he was home. This is where I spend all of my time now; on the couch, in front
of my computer with his blankets and clothes he’d worn next to me on the arm of the couch. Everyday
I put his elephant blanket up to my face and I inhale in hopes of being able to catch his scent. But I
never really do. I miss his smell. I miss being able to rub my lips and nose on the top of his
head, feeling his hair smoothly glide across them.
Double date night at the movies was semi-torturous. A part of me wanted to go out and do it,
but deep down I felt like it was just too soon to try and adjust back into society. I remember telling Torry
when the movie was just starting how I felt like we shouldn’t be there. We shouldn’t have the luxury
of going to the movies. We’re supposed to be home, taking care of our baby boy. We’re supposed
to be consumed with diaper changes, sleep schedule’s, play time, household chores, balancing our love life
with it all. I felt so terribly guilty during the entire movie. I just kept saying to myself “We’re not supposed to be here.
We’re not supposed to be here. I’m supposed to be taking care of Brecken. This isn’t right.”
Torry sat and talked to me last night about trying to adjust
back in to some sort of routine. He pointed out how I haven’t done any house chores (the dishes
have piled like crazy since my mom did them….more than a week ago), I haven’t ran any errands, I haven’t
made any Dr. appointments that I’m supposed to make and I haven’t touched or taken care of any of Brecken’s things.
All this said out of love, not in any sort of
accusing way. He’s done all the errand running for anything we’ve needed. He’s paid some of
our bills (now easily done thanks to the MANY who have kindly donated funds to help us out) He suggested
doing maybe one thing a day. Such as, throw in a load of laundry before that piles up too, go grab a coffee
from Starbucks, put some of Brecken’s things up into his room, go treat myself to a massage, make
an appointment to see my chiropractor etc. He thinks one thing a day will help. And maybe he’s right.
But as he was saying all of this to me I couldn’t help but start to feel entirely overwhelmed with
getting back to normal. If there really is such a thing now after losing Brecken. Even the
simplest thing as easily putting a load of laundry in the washer overwhelms me. The talk
of trying to get me out of this funk overwhelms me. I felt like I was having a mini
panic attack, that’s how much it was scaring me to be normal. I don’t want to leave my
living room. I don’t want to put his things away, I don’t want to trash the dead flowers
sitting in 3 different vases. All of those things were here when our baby boy was here. I feel like
staying in the living room surrounded by Brecken’s things will help me continue to live in
his memory. I don’t want to erase his memory which is why I don’t want to put his things up into his room. It
Putting real clothes on scares me.
Going places scares me.
Moving on scares me.
Welcome to my new normal.