One and a half today. Insane.
I tried writing the post a different way at first–writing a letter to you, talking all about how things are here and what everyone is up to (yourself included). But that was just too damn hard. With so many changes it’s nearly impossible to imagine exactly how you would fit in. Would we have kept the layout the same, with the downstairs master bedroom as the playroom and the tiny Jack and Jill room yours? Would I be stressing about the deployment as much since I would have a 7, 5 and 2 year old instead of having to go through the birth and the first six months with a newborn alone? How would your being here effect things like going to the pool and beach? (Although I have a feeling that wouldn’t change anything–I love the beach too much that I’d be more than willing to sacrifice your nap time to do it. Sorry kid). Would you have more of your brother’s personality, complete with the ability to play on your own, allowing me to have some sanity or would you be super needy like your sister? Millions and millions of what-ifs that are always there, but triggered even more so by the change of scenery.
In some ways being pregnant makes it easier. Because if everything would’ve worked out with you, we never would have this baby. To Jeff’s chagrin, we probably would have completely abstained from any kind of …. extracurricular activity …. once we knew about the possibility of a deployment just because there’s no way in hell I would want to risk even the slightest possibility of being pregnant while he was gone. And I am so incredibly grateful to be pregnant after it taking so long and being so fearful that it wasn’t ever going to happen again that it helps to overshadow the insignificant detail of doing it alone. But, because of the circumstances, in some ways it makes it harder…. if you were here with us then there would be no need to be pregnant. Jeff wouldn’t have to miss out on the birth and the first six months. (Not that the first six months are all that exciting. But still). And with the pregnancy progressing and the deployment looming that single “what if” is beginning to consume all positive thoughts.
It seems like I’ve been wallowing, but I really haven’t been. This day, unsurprisingly, just brings all of the thoughts to the forefront. Instead of just brushing away the questions, today I’m taking the time to actually think about how different everything should be (as much as I don’t want to. And will probably try to stop doing as soon as I’m finished writing. Because you know, denial/ignoring the issue is obviously the answer). Compounded with how close to a move this is–and all of the change and loneliness just moving itself comes with–it’s extra hard. That being said, this transition was still a million times easier than the last move. I mean, I haven’t cried so that’s got to be progress. Or, you know, unhealthy. Potato, po-tah-to. But I think that on your next big milestone I will be able to write that letter to you. Slow and steady wins the race, right?
In honor of your half birthday, I made you half of a peanut butter cake with chocolate frosting. Beautiful, isn’t it?? Seriously I should decorate cakes for a living. People would totally pay for that. Typically your sister was full of tact as she proclaimed, “Um Mama? Maybe I should help you decorate my cake. So it doesn’t turn out so …. …. …. …. mushy.”
But (as usual) I digress. I just know that you’re not allergic to PB–along with hatred of the beach, that’s just not allowed in this household. It may not look pretty (my MO), but it sure was delicious. Happy half birthday Zoe Bear. Love you, today and every day.