I woke up to the sounds of rainfall and a chill in the air. Something felt ominous. I couldn't remember exactly what I'd dreamed, but I felt unsettled and nostalgic. Later in the morning, Paxton asked to watch Cars. It was the first movie he really watched that he'd wanted to watch over and over (and over and over) when he was smaller. Hearing the familiar movie soundtrack only strengthened my strange emotions and I found myself just wanting to scoop him up and hold him close to me.
Thankfully, he was a willing recipient of cuddles this morning and was cheerful as he snuggled back against me, smiling.
He's getting so big. It seems as if he's grown several inches just in the past week or more. He talks nonstop and uses a vocabulary that is much bigger than his age. He's witty and entertaining. He's growing up so fast, along with "his" baby, who will be a year old this month.
Where does time go?
After a while, it dawned on me. October is six months after their birthday. That first October after Paxton and Carys were born saw me at my lowest. I'd resigned from my supervisor position and transferred to a different position that didn't feel like a good fit. I had significant work-related anxiety and I was having difficulty coping with it. It seemed like everyone else was moving on before I was ready to do the same, and though no one said it, I got the impression that others were no longer as interested in hearing me talk about Carys and our story. I was still functioning from within the grief fog.
It felt like I was kicking and screaming trying to hold on to a time when my baby girl still felt near, while the progression of time kept pulling me farther and farther away.
Three and a half years.
So many things have changed in three years. I now work from home, being a full-time mommy, working for the non-profit, working in direct sales, and various other projects so I can be with our boys. I generally feel happier and more at peace than I have in a long time - but I still miss her. My arms ache to hold her. I long for pigtails and pretty little dresses. I long to feel her little arms wrapped around my neck and to hear her giggle while playing with her brothers.
I don't often allow myself to go there. It hurts to play the "what would it be like if..." game. Some days, it just still hits hard, and I find myself longing for Heaven even more than normal.
Heaven is going to be so wonderful. I can't wait to feel those little arms around me and kiss those sweet little cheeks again.