Spring is probably my favorite season. Although I am a summer girl at heart I love the promise of Spring. I am not much for winter and cold so Spring is like the thawing of my soul. I start to gear up for the things that make me incredibly happy (and have to go into hibernation for the winter) like gardening, the beach, sidewalk chalk all over my driveway, blowing bubbles, walks after dinner, lazy evenings at the park and so on.
Miscarriage #4 has managed to shove me off of my Spring high. Instead of hopeful and ready and anticipatory I feel deflated and beaten up. It seems incredibly unfair. I hate whining. I hate hearing myself do it more than anything. But I feel whiney. I want to kick my feet and scream for no reason and cry just because. But I can't. I'm a Mom. I don't get to. And as much as being there Mom makes this whole thing liveable it also makes it harder to grieve and start to move on.
I want my Spring back. I want to want to clean up the yard and plant the first flowers. I want to be more smiley and happy because I know that summer will be here soon.
I'm just not there yet.