I did indeed stop by Lumpy's grave on Saturday. It made me sad but not in an overwhelmingly opressive way. I stood there thinking about him and how much time had been taken from us. Even though I know he's in a better place and not actually there, not really, it felt weird leaving him. I kept thinking I should stay one more minute and them one minute more and so on.
I feel a bit guilty now when Ducky does something adorable and new. It's a bittersweet moment. I'm so glad that she's growing and learning and testing new sounds and abilities. At the same time, I get a little pang of sadness knowing that it very well may be the last time I see a baby become a toddler and grow in to her own as a miniature, very opinionated, person.
I sometimes dream that I'm nursing a baby. When I wake up, I'm so sad that it wasn't real. Ducky never got the hang of nursing and she was losing so much weight we had to give her high calorie formula every 2 hours for several months. I had hoped that I'd be able to nurse Lumpy. My boobs definitely wanted to as well, it took almost 2 months to completely dry up.
I feel like I'm trapped in a weird place of mourning for the past, longing for the future, and just trying to make it through the present.