I did it.
I put together the boxes.
They are all done. I need to tie them up with ribbon, but they’re done. Landon helped me with about 6 boxes. He knows that one of the books in the boxes make me sad, and he asked why. I explained to him what the books mean and why we are donating the boxes. He said he understood and that the book might not be sad to everyone. I said that the book is sad to people who lose babies because of the way you feel when you read it; the words mean something completely different when your baby dies. I’m not sure if he truly understands or not.
It’s hard to think about how I was able to throw a birthday party for him after Kenley died. Thinking about how it’s so hard for me to complete the task of throwing him a party now, even this far out, it just makes my mind explode thinking about how I was able to have a get together shortly after my life changed forever. I know I wanted to make his life feel as normal as possible, and I hope that I have done that, but I really don’t know if I’ve done a good job. I don’t know. Some days I feel like I have done well, and that he is very understanding of what happened to her, and how she impacted our lives…while other days I feel like he is a 7 year old kid who just doesn’t understand it.
He’s only 7. He was only 4 when she died. I cannot believe I have lived three years with a grieving Son, and without my first born Daughter. It seriously makes my brain explode some days.
It is incredible to me that depression has kept me from putting these boxes together until now. I have so many things going on in my life that you would think it would make me feel less stress over one particular thing but it’s the opposite. It makes me so so anxious to know that I couldn’t get the boxes done before her birthday. AND here it is one whole month later, and I just finished them. All the pieces sat there, staring at me, for a month. I just couldn’t bring myself to assemble them. It’s SAD. It’s so sad thinking about where they are going and why they are going.
I came to write about them, and about all the things related to them, but I just can’t.
Depression wins again. I can’t do it tonight.