His birthday is always really uncomfortable for me, but this one was definitely more uncomfortable. It kind of feels like your own birthday, but with an uncomfortable pit in your stomach the whole day. Wishing it to end and wanting to hold on at the same time.
I'm mostly an extrovert, but I don't really like a big deal made of me in social settings. I am one to be with the party and perhaps planning it, but not so much the one being celebrated.
When your child dies, you become the one people celebrate and it feels so weird. My own birthday is weird enough (though as years go on, I could care less about my own birthday). But his is just an odd day.
I don't feel like I should grocery shop. Is that what you do for your birthday? What about on the anniversary of the worst day of your life? I feel like everything I do needs to in some way honor his life.
Elliot had a dental appointment that I scheduled. I took the kids to Target to pick up Q-Tips and these flosser things my dentist recommended because Friday's appointment yielded more dismal results in the history of Brandy's crap teeth. My regiment has been expanded even further. I might need to set up a checklist. Grumble.
Post Target, we went to the Arboretum and then spent a stupid amount of time preventing meltdowns when we left. We went to McDonald's for lunch, swimming at the Y after Benjamin watched Frozen and Claire had a nap. Then we went to Red Robin for dinner, lit candles, sang Happy Birthday and ate yellow golden cupcakes in honor of Andrew's Golden Birthday. Benjamin ate Andrew's cupcake along with his own and then threw a mini fit because he couldn't have another.
His birthday wasn't glamorous. I wish it were, but I'm having a hard time figuring out how to celebrate my boy who isn't here to participate without making it seem forced and uncomfortable. We were together for a family day (for the most part) and we spent lots of time talking about Andrew with the kids. It wasn't much different than a normal Saturday, but there were tears and lots of beautiful messages and well, I'm happy it's over. He's five in heaven. I feel unfulfilled, but that's sort of how it goes in the land of babyloss.
We sure love him, and you, for caring so much. xoxoxo
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4 comments:
xox.
It is really hard to find a way to still celebrate but not make it feel forced or uncomfortable. I fear this will only become more challenging. But, even if it does I know I'll have you and my people who will help me remember and honor Cale just as we will always remember and love on Andrew, even from afar. Especially from afar.
(And an obligatory, "fahhhk" for more teeth woes. I feel ya girlfriend!)
Yes, to all of this.
Honestly, there may have been a measure of relief to having strep throat, as terrible as that was. It took all expectations off the table, you know? I literally had to do nothing but lie on the couch--which is all I really wanted to do anyway, strep throat aside.
A normal day, followed by candles and dessert... How else can we possibly celebrate the worst day of our lives? Missing Andrew with you. xoxo
Yes to celebrating the worst day of your life and marking it with a big, "how the f@€£!!??" when you're in it. It's just bloody miserable, but the desire to make it glamorous is always there too. Because of course you want the best things in life for your kids...and even in death. But god. It's always hard and uncomfortable I find. Yes to all this.
I know I'm super late to the blog post, but I wanted to leave my love for Andrew nonetheless. Didn't feel right leaving a birthday post with out a bunch of xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxox
Xoxoxoxoxoxoxo
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