last night i watched jackson and paul play. i listened to them chuckle with one another, bang toys against each other, enjoy some father-and-son time.

i had no desire to interrupt that precious time and join them.

but not because i want paul and jackson to have their own experiences, their own laughs, their own jokes and games and moments. no, i had no desire to interrupt them because of the guilt i currently feel.

this guilt that i experience every day comes from my own depression and crippling anxiety that i’m battling.

connecting with my husband and my son, in their moment, laughing and enjoying time with them only makes me ache for more… ache for the baby that i was pregnant with and miscarried.

then i instantly become overwhelmed with sadness, feeling like i should be grateful for what i have. i want desperately to take pause and be present. the reality of it is that my present is a dark place right now. my present is filled with sadness that i have not allowed myself to feel until now.

i’m finally grieving the baby we lost.

allowing oneself to grieve requires a lot of work, especially when you have the crazies to begin with.

life intervenes… tonka trucks need to be picked up. cardboard boxes beg to be colored on. tickles require tickling in order to get to the giggling.

while i do all of that, try my hardest to be present with my son, play with him, laugh with him, color and interact and read… i want to cry. i need to cry.

jackson will be 3 in april. 3 years old. we wanted him to have a sibling by now. we wanted to expand our family. i long to watch jackson teach another little one how he plays and creates. i ache to see him in the role of a big brother.

in these moments that consume me multiple times a day right now, i have to remove myself. i hide in the bathroom for an extra minute before jackson comes and finds me. i wait until paul comes home from work and then take some time to sit alone and collect myself before starting dinner and continuing with our evening. i make a conscious effort to not let jackson see mommy upset.

but the truth is, i have slipped up, as any imperfect person would do. jackson has found me crying, hugged me and said, “don’t worry mommy.” he has looked at me with his soulful brown eyes and asked “mom, are you happy?”

i want to say “YES.” i want to be me… the me that i was before… the me that i know is there, somewhere.

ryan’s post gave me pause. his words and admission of things being out of focus, even the pictures he took being out of focus, hit me like a mack truck.

i don’t know ryan. i don’t know his family. he does not know mine. but he taught me something yesterday. he taught me about perspective, about focus, and about work.

i am working to get me back. i have taken steps in the right direction to make that happen, and will continue to do so. between medications and working out like a frickin maniac, i hold on to shreds of sanity.

but i need to remember to have patience with myself, and accept that this kind of work takes time.

the pressure of feeling like i need to snap out of it is not helping with my healing. i want to snap out of it… for myself, for paul, and certainly for jackson.

in the meantime, i need to allow myself to have my moments, my time to grieve in the hopes that jackson is not too affected… but who am i kidding, kids are smart.

like right now, jackson just walked in and told me that we’re going to the grocery store to get all the food and pick out new fruit snacks. he scrawled his request on the grocery list.

then he steamrolled across the bedroom floor on top of all his plastic dinosaurs and wondered why he has ouchies.