Pressed

The weight of my grief has been pressing down on me this week. It is pushing in, boxing me up, and demanding attention. After the whirlwind of transitioning back to work, I am settling back into an all too familiar routine. I am doing a job I know and love, in a classroom I have occupied for five years, in a building I have been in for eight. It is almost as if nothing happened. Life is speeding up and moving on, and I am not quite prepared for it.

It is easy to slip back into routine. To go about my business and manage my life, until something causes the grief to come crashing in. A students autobiographical sketch about being born on Halloween, my due date, or a parent questioning how my baby is, meaning Harry, Daniel Tiger becoming a big brother and Harrison asking to play with babies. In these moments, I am drowning. Desperately trying to get my head above water and keep going.

It is strange, because for me there are constant reminders of the fact that my son is gone, but when I am with other people it feels as if it never happened. I feel like I am supposed to have moved on, or be getting better or be someone who isn't still reeling. Several people have asked, or implied, if another baby is coming soon. I know they are just trying to give us hope, but another baby won't be Teddy. Another baby won't replace him, and the thought of being pregnant again and the fear and anxiety of what could happen is too much to take at the moment. I know we will want other children in the future, but my heart isn't there yet.

My heart still hurts, and my anxiety is still there, so today I had a heart to heart with God on the drive home. I asked Him to be my strength, for Him to be my peace and for Him to be my faith. I am doing a study of Esther, and the constant theme has been that God's plan is hard to see, but it is working towards your good. As October nears, and I compare what am I doing to what I should be doing, I find myself constantly reaching out to God and asking him to remind me that He is there. That even if I don't understand his plan, it is working towards my good, and to carry me for awhile.

God knows that grief has ups and downs. He knows my heart. He put me in this place with the solid routine, so I would have a safe place to heal. Every day I go to work with people who care about me. Family and friends check in on me. This is a safety net that God has provided me, but only He can offer me true comfort. I don't understand why this happened, and I am faced with the reality that my son died before he had the chance to live, but I know that I am surrounded by the ultimate Comforter and He feels all of my pain. Time and prayer will make my grief manageable, but I don't think the missing what might of been will ever leave me.  I will keep praying, keep believing, and keep working towards the goal.