The "other" baby boy.

[Knock on wood] I've been having a few good weeks.  I say good in relative terms.  I'm not a bawling mess.  I'm not sitting around staring out the window and depressed.  Actually if I had to say what I was now I would say I'm nothing.  I don't feel anything.  I don't feel angry, or depressed, or excessively sad.  I just don't feel anything.  My biggest issue right now is not caring.  Not caring about anything.  Not how I look, not how I smell, how I eat, my weight, my health, my house, my dog, my friends and family.  Nothing.  I've just given up the desire to care about anything these days.  I'm keeping busy.  I'm not dwelling on my plight a lot.  I'm just existing.  I feel detached.  Like maybe if I stay over here in this little box I won't have to feel anything too overwhelming.  I'm never in the mood to do anything.  I think, "oh I should go visit so and so, or go do this or that" but in the end, I don't.  I just never seem to "want" to when it comes time.  I just don't "want" to do anything.  I still just want to sleep as much as I can, and zone out into a book or the TV or a movie.  I have a toddler, so obviously I can't do that all day, but when it comes to my free time, I just zone.  I don't scrap much anymore.  I don't blog much anymore.  I don't email much or play on facebook much.  I don't do much of anything.

Today we went to visit our friends who had their baby boy last week.  9 1/2 months after Logan died.  It was the first baby boy I've held.  The first baby my husband has held.  We survived.  Actually, for me, the nice part was that I didn't feel "anything" twards this little boy.  I was excited to see him, enjoyed holding him and really didn't connect my feelings for my son with this little boy.  That surprised me.  All of these long months I've sort of looked at it like Logan left, this little boy came.  But nothing.  I didn't feel angry, or sad.  I was more thinking of my daughter at her birth.  It was nice.  I was nice to see that I didn't flip out, or get jealous, or bitter, or resentful or cry.  I just enjoyed seeing him.  I enjoyed their happiness.  I'm releived to be past it.

Halloween came and went.  This was the first "holiday" where I didn't find myself obsessing over the fact that Logan should be here, and isn't.  I had fleeting thoughts about what I might have dressed him up like, but for the most part I was distracted and consumed about Halloween with my daughter this year.  I enjoyed the entire day and only stopped to think about his absence, and what I would have done, later that night while I was laying in bed.  I realized it this morning and it felt like perhaps that was sort of a break through for me.

On the way to our friends house this afternoon I found myself thinking about how old Logan should've been right now.  5 1/2 months.  Sitting up on his own.  I would have been starting him on Rice Cereal this week or next.  I try not to think about how old he would be, where he'd be at developmentally.  I think it would be too much to handle.  Only on occasion do I stop to think where he'd be.  But today it dawned on me that he wouldn't be a tiny baby anymore.  He'd be moving on into becoming a big boy.  He'd be wearing 6 month old clothes.  Nursing less, experimenting with solids, sleeping more.  Maybe trying to get around.  I've always thought of him as this tiny baby.  Perhaps he'll always be a tiny baby for me.  But today, for a few minutes, Logan wasn't a tiny little baby.  And maybe it made it easier to hold my friends baby.  Maybe, just maybe, I'm moving forward a little further.  Maybe I won't die after all...

Don't hold your breath though.  Christmas is coming.  Winter is coming.  The anniversary of his death is coming.