I started writing this post several weeks ago. What was once the most wonderful time of year has now become my most dreaded months since we lost Lincoln. The commercials are everywhere reminding us that Christmas is a time for children. Last year when we enjoyed time with our families we dreamed of the chubby little 8 month old cherub that Lincoln would be. Instead I will be lighting a candle to represent his presence in our life. When we took family pictures I held an elephant instead of my baby.
Yesterday was rough. I woke up plagued by my “normal” what ifs. I was back in that moment, wondering what I could have done different. If there was someway I could have sensed Lincoln in distress. Some days I can shake these feelings off. I focus on how far I have come and though I won’t ever be the old me, I am finding the new me that I am ok with. Other days not so much. Today for example, Lincoln would have been 7 months old. My sweet little baby would be sprinting towards toddlerhood. We would have just had his first Halloween. I wonder about his costume. Instead he is in a small white plastic box. He did attend our annual neighborhood Trick or Treat party. I needed him to be there. I simply carried him in my pocket. And of course, the marketing campaigns have immediately thrown us into preparation for Christmas. Kyle and I felt bombarded by Christmas commercials while watching tv. We are still three weeks from Thanksgiving and we are inundated with thoughts of the most wonderful time of the year. I don’t know