These are the loneliest day, the terrorversaries.
These have become the days when it hurts the most that his father left me behind to handle these days alone - to remember our son alone.
Today is the third anniversary of a day when nothing happened. Had his story taken a different path, Toren would have been 3 years old.
The day after the prior post I had a very important therapy session, though it's hard to describe why. Here's some rambling: People with children do sometimes kill themselves. If Toren had lived, my marriage probably would not have improved enough to make it good. The same persistent problems would have returned once the difficult aspects of raising a child emerged. This is not some sort of comparison that ends with determining that it's a fucking blessing that Toren is dead because now I'm out of a bad marriage, this is letting go of the dream I was clinging to that Toren living would have meant that my husband I would only grow closer and closer.
Sometimes I miss my ex more than I could ever say out loud, and that makes me so angry that he could not be the person I thought he was.
Birth control has run out and cycle charting has begun. Even while dutifully logging temperatures and whatnot, I can't believe that a baby could be the end result.