"It looked really nice. The picture made me happy-sad."
This was my mother's response when I sent her a picture of what I did out at Eleanor's site today. And it pretty much sums up how I feel after doing anything nice to remember or honor E. When you lose a baby you are left with so little - so few tasks. While others spend the 6th week of motherhood sleep deprived, washing bottles, bibs and blankets - I cling to the few "duties" I can take on for my precious daughter. So I take her fresh flowers, spend time in her room and write these entries.
And I hate it. Because it feels like such a charade. So unfair.
Just as I am starting to feel comforted by these little rituals, happy with what I have done her for - I inevitably get smacked in the face with a child in a stroller, a children's book display or some other item that brings it all back into sharp focus. And then I am sad again.
Sad that burns in my throat and aches in my empty arms. Sad that crushes me under the weight of its horrifying permanence.
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