It truly does get harder, harder and harder. I trusted it would and yet, in the beginning I couldn’t actually imagine it was possible. But it is. The knife cuts deeper and deeper. The loss is bigger and bigger.
I’m getting to that stage everyone expected me to be at from day one; the stage where I really want to just stay in bed. But the baby won’t allow that.
I survived. I survived another day. I woke up telling God I needed extra help today. And then my iced Duncan Donuts coffee was served friendly AND fast. Insane combo. Never happened before. And so I smiled. And then I bit into my bacon egg and cheese bagel and it smelled just like my husband, my non-pork non-bagel eating husband. And so I laughed.
And then a gift from so many friends, my house was cleaned. It smells so good. It feels so good. It actually motivated me to get off the couch and clean up after Zoya ate, so I even felt good. It’s freedom to be able to mourn in cleanliness.
It was still probably the hardest day of my life, to date, but I survived. There is a good chance tomorrow will be harder still.
As it gets harder, I can close my eyes and shut down or open them and look for truth, through faith, hope and love.