I am getting so worn out with the holidays that were supposed to be joyful markers of first experiences but have become another thing to put my head down and get through.
Other days that have been painful?
Super Bowl Sunday 2012 (started as the happiest day of our lives which became the most shocking, saddest one I'll ever know)
February 5th, for the rest of my life.
Valentine's Day, the first holiday after we lost her.
St. Patrick's Day, which in the weeks leading up, before losing Eleanor, was to be possibly my first adventure back out for the green beer that has become a cliche tradition among my girl friends.
Easter. This one was tricky. After breaking down in front of a display of baby bunny books and plush toys in Barnes and Noble, I wailed to my mother, "I forgot about Easter!!" everything becomes a reminder about the child you lost, but the idea that Eleanor would not be among the little, fat babies, clad in pastels with baby animal patterns, sitting in front of an Easter baskets full of candy she'll never eat just killed me all over again.
And now here we are, Mother's Day. What shall we say? I will throw down the guantlet, concede that you may win the battle this year, but I challenge you to come back next year, when I hope to be on stronger ground and can best you. And celebrate with a baby I can hold while celebrating the baby, I hope, is holding me.
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