It's almost been three months. We should be moving on, right?!
I feel like we are at a place now where people expect that we will have accepted our plight, dealt with it, and moved on. We are getting a beautiful, new house. We have a beautiful son. We should be happy.
Those are all of the shoulds. The reality is sometimes much different. I love my son and feel blessed to have such a beautiful baby. But I can't smile at him... in a time where smiling at him should be the only thing I want to do. I can't console him when he is crying because the ear pain is piercing, and the screaming is excruciating. I can watch my house be built, but I can't live there. I am stuck at the rental. I refuse to organize anything here because it's not my house, and we are moving soon. Even when we move in, there will still be moments of loss. Our sense of normal was taken from us. Every moment is different. We live in constantly abnormal-ness. Sitting on the concrete patio will be a reminder that we lost the wood deck that we built. Looking at the Japanese Maple we plan on planting will be a reminder that this is now our long-time home. We weren't going to plant that tree until we moved into a more permanent house. We have also lost our sense of security. When you drive home to your neighborhood on fire and then lose your house, every trip out feels like a risk. I am afraid of the heating pad for fear it will catch on fire. I worry that the flat iron was left on. I don't want candles. It's hard to live in that place, that level of awareness.
Fortunately Dan reminded me that our neighbors, particularly the wives, were all experiencing much of the same. I called one of our neighbors last night who reassured me that she was there. She also said that a friend who had lost their home said that this was normal. We will be forever defined by this moment. Our lives are completely different because of it. And it's ok... Normal even... that it is taking more than three months to be ok again.