The tears are never very far away these days. It isn't all deadbabystuff that sets me off. But the emotion is all stemming from my feelings of loss - where is my 3 year old. God. I think of all the things that 3 year olds do at Christmastime and I well up again.
I guess it is an emotional time of year. And it is seasonally imprinted on me. The last 4 years have been so emotional at Christmas. In 2004, it was complete and utter excitement. My husband talking to my belly, trying to convince C. to come early and be the New Year's baby . 2005 was agony. There were small, gentle moments of healing, but not many. Certain family members ignored our pain. We weren't pregnant. Our baby was dead. A horrible, horrible year. 2006 brought the hope of BB's arrival, but continued BH contractions, that terrifying (transient, turns out) arrythmia, and the polyhydramnios had us hardly daring to breathe.
This brings us to 2007. We have our boy. His brother isn't here. It is sometimes so complicated to live in my heart and soul, trying to reconcile those two sets of emotion. Joy, cuddles, and giggles. Silence, pain, longing, memory. I am so often amazed that I can and do continue on despite the torrent of conflict that I am bombarded with on such a regular basis.