March

Since March 18, 2007, I have dreaded and loathed this month. Each year as it rolls around, I get a tightening in my throat and an overall sense of gloom descends upon the world. This year, March 1 was frought with nasty, slushy miserable weather. It had snowed a day or two before and it was rainy and slushy, just like the last day of Natalie's life. As I lay nursing Gabriel before he went to sleep, I suddenly started crying, I mean uncontrollably crying. I missed Natalie. The depth of the missing and the longing and the yearning cannot be conveyed in words. It is something I feel deep in every cell of my body and soul. Since Gabriel's birth, nursing has been a big grief trigger for me. I started thinking about why I was crying like this, when I hadn't done so in quite awhile. I literally couldn't stop and I tried to keep it hushed so I didn't disturb my little boy who was contentedly nursing away, getting sleepy and ready to go night-night. Then I realized: It's March. The weather sucked today. It sucked just like it did on March 17, 2007, the last day of Natalie's life. I had taken the girls outside briefly so I could clear the slushy mess off the front steps for the mailman. Natalie didn't want to put on her snowsuit, so I let her go out in her boots, coat, and hat. She didn't like it and kept fussing for me to pick her up. It's hard to shovel snow while holding a 24-lb toddler, so I made Natalie wait until I could pick her up. Then I did and all was better again for her. Roslyn wanted to play, but Natalie just stood in the snow, looking forlorn. She didn't like it. We stayed out for a bit longer and then I convinced Roslyn to go back inside and Natalie was happy about that.

And so, today is March 7 - 11 more days to go until the 18th, which will mark the 5th anniversary of my beautiful baby's passing. This year it falls on a Sunday, just like in 2007. It has been a rough week so far, but Chris and I are both doing the best we can to be kind to ourselves and each other. There's nothing we can do about it, except hang in there and keep on living. It's just a rough one this year. Five years seems like such a long, long time and I miss her more and more.