Heavy

I awoke this morning to find my gerbera plant in full bloom with one beautiful, healthy pink flower. The last time it had a flower on it was just after Freja's death in April. Over the past week, I've watched with anticipation as the new blossom grew and slowly began to open up. How ironic is it that it should be in full bloom and all it's glory on the three month anniversary of her death? Is it a sign that she's sending me to tell me she's alright? I'll be sure to take pictures as soon as my camera batteries are charged.

Three months since Freja left us. A quarter of a year. It doesn't feel like it's been that long. I can still remember everything so clearly. I still replay everything over and over in my head until it nearly drives me crazy. Her birth, the shock of finding out about everything that was so wrong with her, trying to enjoy the unknown amount of time we had with her, all the decisions, her decline and death.
I'm so scared of forgetting. I want my memories of her to always be as fresh as they were during the moments she was alive in my arms. I always want to feel the weight of her as I held her and gently rocked her. I'm scared that the pain of losing her might loosen it's grip. I don't want to move on. I don't want to be okay. I want my baby and if I can't have her, I want to mourn her forever.

I came across a quote today. It really touched me and explains so much about how I've been feeling and coping since the loss of my daughter.
"In the deepest solitude, there is a road.."
My happiest times are often those which are spent alone; reflecting and just trying to learn more about myself through my thoughts. I think this is why I enjoy the long drives that the kids and I often take in the afternoon. I usually feel calm and peaceful, as I sort through everything that goes through my mind. I think of what I'd like to write about, and I think of my friends who have lost their children. I'm going too look into meditation, it seems like it would be very healing.

This is a good article. which further explains the meaning of Solitude.

I want to visit Freja tonight. I still can't bring myself to drive past the cemetary when I'm on my way somewhere. No, I cannot drive by and not visit my baby. The only way I am at peace with going near that area is if I know I can stop and spend some time there.