4 weeks. As much as I tell myself not to keep track, I can’t help it.
Fridays are so weird for me right now. My weeks of pregnancy turned over on Fridays, and then…I delivered Gregory on a Friday, four weeks ago. And now, it’s Good Friday.
I used to love Friday. It was my favorite day of the week. Even when it was Holy Week and it was Good Friday. But now…now, Friday means something different for me. Now, I am sad on Fridays. Now, it’s a marker of time gone by since something so painful happened.
I try to make it through Friday without thinking about the fact that it’s Friday. But then I realize that it is ridiculous to try to do that.
I keep wondering at what point Friday won’t feel like this to me anymore? When it’s been 6 months of Fridays? When the due date (which was a Friday) passes?
Today, I thought about the fact that Christ gave so much more for me — for us — and for our sins, that it almost feels selfish to mourn the loss of my baby boy. But then I realize that is kind of silly, that of course I would and should mourn the loss — the loss of being able to mother my son, being able to love him and teach him and pray with him. Instead, I must try to understand and learn how to pray and ask for his intercession (I haven’t quite figured this out). I mean, sure, in theory, it makes sense to me — but in practice, I just haven’t gotten a handle on it. Maybe it’s still too close, too fresh.
I look toward Easter Sunday and look forward to feeling happy again. I’ve smiled and laughed with my family over these past few weeks, at times. But genuine happiness — the kind the fills my heart — has still not yet returned. I’m not sure this Easter Sunday will bring that, but I will be hoping to feel it on some level.
May the Risen Christ bless you on this Easter Sunday. God bless.