it's almost Christmas

I knew it was coming, the Christmas breakdown.  I'm frantically packing and cleaning for our holiday trip.  My husband is working late so it's just me and the dog.  This song (After the Storm) came on my playlist and I was dusting off Kayla's dresser where her urn is and all of a sudden, I was holding her picture and just crying.  Sobbing, actually.  It felt good though.  So much pressure has been building with the holidays.  I only cry like this when I'm sure I'm alone. 

I wanted to be packing baby stuff up to go visit Kayla's extended family for her first Christmas.  Instead I'm so alone right now, lonely.  I don't think I need to reiterate every single thing that I wish I could experience with her at this time of year.  My life is so far away from what I was expecting.  And her whole existence gets reduced to a ceramic urn and an autopsy report that says "multiple anomalies."  Damn.  She was more than that. 

As a kid, I used to practice crying.  You know, standing in front of the mirror, pretending that you're in a movie or you're famous, and everyone is watching you to see how you react to something sad.  I find that so ironically funny now, because I was such a weird kid, but also because you can't practice or prepare for this kind of grief.  While my good moments and days have returned and last longer than I ever thought possible in those first few weeks, the times that grief knocks me down are just as intense as the day we found out no heartbeat.  But maybe it's those moments that Kayla and I are closest in spirit.

I'm not sure how Christmas is going to go--maybe I'll be really sad and cry a lot, or feel really jealous of my sister, or avoid meeting the 10 month old baby of one of my best friends.  Or maybe I'll just be numb and go through the motions of the holidays.  But I do know that I'm looking forward to a long break from work, and hoping to have some "me time" to walk, journal, and read.  I can't take care of Kayla, but I can take care of myself and my husband.  I still wish she were here though, every second of every day.