Friday mornings Milo has made it a "tradition" to take the girls out on a date. They usually go out for breakfast (which used to be McDonald's or Burger King, but then Milo watched "SuperSize Me" and gave up eating fast food so now they go to a great local fresh made to order restaurant) then they go on to some great activity like sledding, playing at the park or shopping for Mommy. I love Friday's because my husband gets to spend time alone with his girls and the girls get Daddy's undivided attention which they love.
I also love Fridays because I've started my own routine which usually includes an extra cup of coffee, an extended quiet time with God and reading through my blog, which is in print thanks to some amazing friends. For many months now I have curled up on the couch and read and re-read our days with Josiah. I usually start with what happened with Josiah and our family over the past week and then read forward to the next week. I love this time to reflect and remember. Milo and the girls usually come home to find me stilled curled up on the couch with my blog and tears rolling down my face. It feels good to get that cry out almost every week. I love Friday mornings.
But this past Friday morning hurt and re-opend a wound. I had some other things going on this past Friday morning and I only had a brief moment curled up on the couch with my blog. I quickly turned to the date and realized it was the date of Josiah's finally heart catheterization. I read the post I had written with updates on how the procedure was going and then I read the post detailing the results. That was the day we were told that Josiah was not getting better but that he was getting worse, that his heart and his lung function had decreased, and that he would not be a candidate for his next surgery. This was devastating news to us but we were ever hopeful and optimistic as were the doctors. We were told that while there was not much more they could do for Josiah they felt like we had many more months, if not a year or two with him.
The hard thing about this past Friday though was that after I read that post and reflected on that day I looked forward in my blog to realize there were only 3 more posts about Josiah before the one where we let everyone know that Josiah was in the arms of Jesus. It was only 10 days after I wrote the post about the results of his heart catheterization that Josiah died. It didn't hit me until Sunday night and when it did it hit me hard. I only have one Friday left with Josiah and my memories. The day Josiah died is now only 6 days away. I love thinking back, even on the bad days, and being able to say, "this is what we were doing with Josiah on this day." After January 24th, I have 116 days where I can't say that. May 20th feels so very far away. The days between January 24th and May 20th, the day Josiah was born, seem so empty, there are no memories to celebrate or milestones to remember. Just the 116 days that Josiah was not with us. That has thrown me into a funk this week. The kind of funk where I feel like I'm in a fog and can't make decisions, not even simple ones like what to make for dinner. The kind of funk where when I'm at the store and some sweet lady comes up to me and comments on my beautiful girls I tear up because I want her to know my beautiful son too. The kind of funk where I constantly feel the missing part of me.
The thing is though, I've been here before and I know I'll come out of it. I know that God is near in these moments and his love and beauty will bring me out and usher me through the door of Hope. But for right now I'm okay with being here because the pain allows me to know and feel how deeply I love my son. So in an odd way I "enjoy" the painful days. When the pain is real and tangible the love is also real and tangible.
I also have an amazing husband who has been incredible the past couple of days. It's like he's been here before too! He's been so gentle with me the past couple of mornings when I haven't wanted to get out of bed. He's given me space and time. He's made the girls breakfast and got them playing something to give me some extra time. He's been so understanding when I tell him to go ahead and make plans for us to get out of the house and then change my mind and decide I don't want to go. I thank God for him. I thank God for a husband who understands and doesn't expect my pain to go away because it's been a year. Thank you Milo, you are making this easier.
A heart that holds on