Somedays I wake up and I don’t get regular clothes on (I must not tell lies). I smack on the yoga pants, a t-shirt and call it a day. Those days I don’t usually put on my Kenley necklace. Somedays it doesn’t even phase me, but some days it really bugs me. Some days I feel like if I don’t wear that necklace, I am not honoring my girl. It’s like I feel as if I’m “forgetting” her if I don’t wear it. I know that’s stupid, and I know that wearing my necklace here in my house isn’t making me any closer to Kenley. I can’t get any closer to her- I’m her mother. I am the one who loves her more than anything in this world.

Sometimes I feel like, as a loss mom,  I look for ways to honor my daughter that are above and beyond. Like, somehow if I take my love for her above and beyond, she will be able to feel that extra love. I know it’s not true, I know that she knows I love her, and that I would do anything in my power to have her here if it was possible. It’s just another way that losing a child fucks your brain up. It sucks. It’s sad. It hurts. It’s depressing knowing that no matter what I do to honor my girl, it’s just not going to matter when it comes to saving her.

I couldn’t save her.

Maybe honoring her by wearing her necklace, taking care of her tree, making things for other loss moms, makes me feel closer to her. Maybe it makes me feel like I’m caring for her, even though she is not here. I’m not sure what it is exactly. I’m sure I’m not the only one who feels this way.

There are other things that I do now that I need to do every day because I feel like if I stop, it’s one more step away from my girl. Now that we have our hope chest I know that I should take small steps to start putting things in there. I have a shoe box of random things from our bedroom that are related to her, and it’s sitting on my dresser. I think the first step in this whole “hope chest” thing will be putting that shoe box in there.

I don’t know if you’re like me, but when I clean something up I always end up getting sucked into it and looking at it again. Usually tying to clean one thing quickly takes a full day and will get me so off track. I know the second I step into her room and start to unpack that diaper bag, I’m going to fall apart into a million pieces. I haven’t looked at her blanket from the hospital, or the hat. I haven’t re-read her 25% finished baby book that will never be 100% finished. There are so many things that I want to look at, but know that I am not strong enough for yet.

Next Tuesday is 38 weeks. Next Saturday is 38+4, the length of time I carried her. Sunday she will be gone longer than she was alive, and that’s a real gigantic mind fuck.

Maybe next week I will find the strength to go in her room. I don’t know. Maybe not.

Probably not.