There is this time at night, usually between 2-3am, that is all comes crashing down. I can tell tonight will be one of those nights.
I usually wait up to see my husband who gets in around midnight. We chat about the day and spend some time together before he goes to bed. Then the quiet creeps up on me.
Usually just the change in my breathing patterns and the beginning of the crying prompts him to hold me. Even in his deepest sleep he goes into autopilot and holds his grieving wife. There is no need for words. When your child dies, you never have to ask- I'm guessing ever again. This is our nightly ritual. Then the next day neither of us mentions it. It's our new norm. His tear stained tshirts, my red puffy eyes.
I keep a stack of DVDs in our bedroom in an attempt to keep me distracted and books/Nook at my bedside. Trying to concentrate on anything when your heart is so heavy is futile. Everything I read or watch somehow reminds me of CJ. Reminds me of what is missing.
My sleepless night were to be much different. I had prepared for midnight diaper changes and nursing my son in the middle of the night. There is a beautiful nursery just across the hall from me now sitting empty. Even the hospital bag I packed is tucked into the closet. The rocking chair has a blanket made for one of my girls spread across the back. It's all there.
So as the tears start falling a bit early tonight, I will begin by praying for all the other mommies out there joining me in painful silence tonight. May the morning bring peace and the hope of a new day. I'll survive.... I have to #doitforcj
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