So last night I told Butterfly. I told her that when we went to the doctor we were going to go see if the baby was okay. I told her the baby was sick so Jesus took them out of my tummy to go make them feel better. And I also told her that maybe one day the baby will come back.
She just stared at me a minute. Then she picked up her necklace and said, "Don't break my necklace, Mommy. I just bought it from the store."
I told her it was okay to be sad, in which she told me she's not sad. Then she got up and started yelling down the stairs, "Daddy, come see my necklace!" By the way, that necklace is not new but she was pretty excited about it.
To her the baby is safe and being cared for and might be back someday. So she's not sad or upset and hasn't mentioned it since.
Yesterday I decided to start raking the leaves in our front yard. We have a massive amount of dead leaves littering the yard and I needed the physical exertion and the cold air. Being outside is refreshing to me. As a young girl and teenager I'd always rush outside and cry in the woods behind our house when I was feeling down or upset or to explore and play when I was happy. I practically lived in those woods.
There is just something about being in nature that clears your mind and heart and just allows you to open up yourself and be completely raw. Inside a stuffy house you have an appearance to keep up, distractions, your thoughts race instead of slow down, everything just seems more muddled.
So anyway, I needed to get out and rake. As I was raking up the leaves it was almost therapeutic. It was as though I was metaphorically cleaning out my womb as I cleaned up the ground. But I soon became desperate and my metaphor kept changing in my mind. I could not pick up all the pieces.
There were too many crumbled and broken leaves. I couldn't pick up all the pieces. I couldn't clear out the entire yard completely and perfectly. If a wind blew, leaves would scatter to a cleared area in the yard and more leaves would fall from above.
The metaphor morphed into this feeling that I was trying to rake up all the broken pieces of my heart but no matter how desperately I tried I just couldn't pick up all the pieces. I was too tired to even cry. The thoughts just kept going through my mind over and over.
Finally it was noon and I hadn't eaten anything. I felt weak, defeated, and I ran out of bags. So only half the yard got picked up but it doesn't matter. Leaves are scattered all over again. I don't know if I'll be able to pick up all the pieces, not by myself.