All 2 year olds love a good pig roast.

Hi –

Not much new to report on the baby front – still nothing. I’m sure Matt and Lauren are beyond frustrated and full of anticipation, more so than I am.

Stella’s 2^nd birthday party was today. I’m sure you would have bought something for her off of one of her 2 registries. Then post party Rab would call you to tell you all about the days events. She’d probably tell you how we were still getting things done last minute, and how we were still plating food when the guests started to arrive. How I stepped up to the plate and helped out making a million and one chicken skewers. She’d also tell you how Stella was really good today even though she missed her nap. There were no temper tantrums, or meltdowns. She’d probably tell you other things about the day that I’m sure I never even noticed.

I was really good all day – until this one moment. A bunch of us were gathered around opening the presents. I had assumed my job as official present note taker.  Lizzie opened one of the cutest little dresses ever, one that was unexpected I suppose, because she made this cute little giggle noise and Rab mimicked it. They had their own super secret mother/daughter moment. A bet no one else in the room noticed it, except for me since I’m hyper aware of those things right now. And of course I then thought, well damn no more of those for me. Just a slap in the face moment I suppose. And I’m sure it’s the first of many.

I know I’ve said it before, and I’ll continue to say it, it’s such a weird thing to have happen.  Mainly because it’s not like you can’t continue to go on living your life. I still have to get up every morning and live this new life I have. Some moments are way easier than others, and it’s not at the forefront of my mind. Its somewhere in the back hanging out, existing. Then other moments its right there dictating exactly how I am acting and reacting to things in that very moment.  Then of course when I’m having the good moments and not focused on it, and going about my business I’ll catch myself and stop. And I’ll think, stop, your not grieving. You’re not focusing on this thing. Then I’ll debate with myself and say, but isn’t that a good thing. Isn’t the fact that I just giggled a good thing? I mean I just genuinely whole-heartedly laughed out loud. That should be good right? Or is it too soon? And then of course whatever good moment, or chunk of good time I was having is over, because I’m completely focused on this inner debate I’m having and if I’m ‘reacting’ properly. When the shitty fact of the matter is there is no ‘right’ way to react. There is only what works for me. And I know that. I can say that. I can tell other people that, but I don’t believe it.

I’m some how, and for some really weird reason very concerned about how other people view my dealing. Which is retarded, really and honestly it is. Because all that matters is that I find a way to deal that works for me. And again I know this, I can say this, I can tell other people this, but I don’t believe it. Maybe one day.

I’m going to go and watch TV with Rab now.

Love you forever, miss you always.

Rachel