I am in a dark, dark place right now.

All I want to do is lie down and will myself into nonexistence.

I didn't think people knew what they were talking about when they said the holidays are almost worse. Because they are.

Jason and I bought a stocking last year. We knew we were pregnant. We bought a red velvet snowflake for our second child. And found it yesterday, putting up the tree.

Today I just want to be done with it all. I'm angry, and hurt, and betrayed, and lost. My chest feels like there is a sucking wound - with every gasp, it feels worse.

I know, I know, ups and downs. But I didn't think it'd be this far down.

Depictions

I spent a long weekend in New York City with one of my best friends.

It was a necessary escape. I can't thank her enough for offering her home to me. We spent the weekend pounding the pavement, with her playing the role of tour guide.

I was quite proud of myself. I only broke down twice -- once at the Metropolitan Museum of Art, and once in St. Patrick's Cathedral. 

I think I felt mostly anger at St. Patick's Cathedral. It was gorgeous, and there were psalms being sung.. I was moved. And then I saw, just outside of the Lady Chapel, a statue. It was lovely. It was Christ, dead in Mary's arms, tortured. And she looks beatific, peaceful. 

I'm sorry, but, I don't think that's necessarily the best depiction. I feel like it cheapens her. Sure, you can have faith and trust in God. That's not the part that is in question for me. But.. it's her son. It doesn't matter if he's coming back. At that point, she doesn't know. I don't understand why Mary is never depicted as anything other than a gently smiling Mona Lisa figure in the background of the New Testament story.

I relate to her more than most people now. And I just feel that, at least someplace, she should be real. 

Holidays

I'm continuing my trend of attempting to be completely and viscerally honest here.

The holidays suck. They really, really do.

I can see Henry in my mind - exactly how he would have looked. I can see him in my mind at six months, a year, twenty years. I can't stop it. He's living in my head.

Not in a creepy way -- I know he's gone, but, it's there. I'm struggling with the milestones. Thanksgiving was decent enough. We kept it low-key, and mostly enjoyed the naps. But Christmas.

Oy.

My husband and I were talking this morning about ways to make it better. We're involved with a group of other parents, bereaved and struggling with the holidays as well. There's tons of advice out there to lessen the sharp edge of grief, but really, you have to make it your own.

So. Our way of making it our own. We want to donate. We want to make it a tradition, every year, that we pick out a toy that Henry would have liked. Amelia's going to help us every year. We'll pick them out, and find a good charity (Toys for Tots, maybe?) to send the gifts off to every Christmas.

I'd like to open this up to everyone.

If Henry has touched your heart in any way, won't you consider reaching out to others?

If you do, I'd love to hear about it. Either on my Facebook page [https://www.facebook.com/MinneapolisMom] , or here. <3