sadder than I meant it to be

As Matt came through the front door with the Sunday newspaper this morning, I could hardly believe it had only been one week since he carried it into my hospital room. It has been the longest week of my life. I lost track of days. Each one seemed to take three times its normal length. Tasks we had completed only the day before would seem like distant memories. Naps where I should have been cuddling a newborn became devices to avoid facing all the hours of the day. More often than not they backfired, leaving me to my thoughts for hours at a time in the middle of the night.

We had a memorial service for Calla Saturday night. It was small and simple, but important for me and Matt. It seemed like so many more than 8 days since we held her in our arms. I'd spent most of the week looking toward last night. I didn't know if I could face it or whether I would say anything. I alternated between not feeling ready and just wanting it to be done. Last night as I tried to sleep all I felt was emptiness. There was no comfort or peace, but also gone were the heartache and sorrow. The swirling, crashing waves of all those emotions are back today, but as I laid awake and listened to Matt and Howie sleep, the numbness was overwhelming.

I've spent the week wishing for stillness and for my house to be calm. Now that the quiet has come, I don't want to be alone.