feels like fall

For the first time ever I am happy that it is finally cold outside. Much more comfortable for me in my present condition. I had a dr's appointment on Friday, at which I cried a lot but it was very helpful and I got a mental health referral which I never would have thought was something I'd be pleased about but I am. Still just getting through work one day at a time but I am relieved by knowing now that my doctor can approve my maternity leave as soon as it becomes necessary. So, possibly sooner than later. One thing that really threw me off however was that the hospital still refers to me by my old name. It's quite jarring, especially with how emotional I am already. I had finally gotten my new insurance card (after more than a year!) so I was expecting it to finally all be changed over at the hospital when I arrived this time, but alas, it was not so, which did not help at all to deter the crying. I did get someone to make a note on my file though, so maybe next time? Shan't get my hopes up, I'll just be better braced for it next time. Though if anyone calls me anything but Vera while I am trying to give birth I will seriously lose. my. shit.

Phil is taking good care of me and I am grateful. I know he is in this for the long haul, because he told me so, but also because that is the kind of person he is. We've always been good about splitting up household chores, but now he also has been taking on more dinners as well, which is very helpful.

One day at a time, as usual. Looking forward very much to Thanksgiving, then Christmas, then baby. I hope I will be able to just be happy, when he comes. As my doctor said, it's not fair that I keep suffering for what other people did. I should be able to just be happy. I already care so much more for my baby, have done so much more to nurture and protect him in these last six months than my parents ever did for me. The thought of it is hurtful and sharp. Every time I talk to him, I tear up. I think it's a combination of hardly being able to believe that he's going to really be mine, and a sense of loss over what I've never had, what no one ever felt for me. I just hope that whenever I see his little face, the joy will outweigh the pain. For both of our sakes.

breakable

I feel vulnerable in the spring. Sensitive. Exposed. The flowers start showing up and they're gentle, thank goodness; I need them to be gentle. The sky is bright, and blue, and full of empty promises.

It's been 5 years and 2 weeks. And I still feel vulnerable in the spring.

a new month

October. How did that happen?
Wish I had something important or clever to say, but I don't...

fall fashion

I have to admit, my very favorite thing about fall has always been the clothes. I love boots and sweaters, scarves, tights. I love the richer colors and textures. In the summer months I am happy to be warm -- but too sweaty to feel very chic -- and in the winter I am grumpy and too cold. In the fall, however, I can layer up and feel put together and amazing every day. Yay, fall!

PS: Jill, please ship me my dresses and boots! I neeeeed them... Else I will go and buy more, which is bad.


Photos via Anthropologie and weheartit

turn, turn, turn

The lazy heat of summer lingers here, during the day, though the calendar declares it to be mid-September and certainly the beginning of fall. Most nights are cooler now. And the gentle breezes, when they blow, send newly brittle yellow leaves skipping and skittering across the sun-warm stones of our back patio with a delightful, raspy sound. The smell of them, of autumn leaves, is magic; I would fill my whole house with it if I could.

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Summertime is when I moved here, so as long as it is summer, my move is still new. But in the fall, this can be where I live; where I work and play and cook and read. Where I put pictures up on the wall. Where I think about making new friends. This can be where I remember my babies freely, without old ties, old guilt; without worrying about what anybody thinks. I can assimilate them more fully into my everyday life. I can relax. I can love who I am; all of who I am. I can explore what it means to belong.

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Summer's end means the grueling anniversaries of my children's deaths have passed by, too. The tickers on my sidebar keep counting the days, but right now the numbers don't floor me like they did. It's been a year, it's been three years. The months will go by, the seasons will continue to change, the years will keep piling up, and my kids will still be just as gone. I know there will be times when I feel myself suddenly in the grip of it again: the helpless hopelessness, the grief. But for now there is some slight reprieve. I just miss them. I will always miss them. They will always be a part of me.



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