We're Home

After avoiding it for as long as I can, we're back at home.

Before, when Matthew wasn't here, we knew he would be coming home. We knew he would be here to grow and to play and to sleep in his bed and to sleep with us and to cuddle with us and just to be here.

Not this time. This time we came home knowing that Matthew would never be here again with us. We'll never all lay together in bed watching cartoons. We'll never here him laugh or talk or play.

His room sets empty. His bassinet is cold and alone. Our bed is lonely and missing him. I miss him so much.

In the next few days, I'm going to start going through his clothes. I will do his last load of laundry. I am going to turn his baby clothes into two quilts. 1 for Dusty and I and a smaller one for little Miss Kaitlyn. I'm fortunate that while I was in the hospital I ordered a ton for him and he was spoiled and had a ton of clothes.

When we got home, there was a package for Kaitlyn. I've learned I have some of the world's most amazing friends. I have no idea how I got so lucky. The package was a grief kit for toddlers. It included a card with ideas on how to deal with the loss of a loved one for a toddler. It had a coloring book that explained a lot of things like feelings and how it's ok to miss the person you love. It had a pinwheel and my favorite part was a super soft teddy bear holding a heart that you can put a picture in. She asked if we could put in a picture of Matthew and I promised I would get one for her tomorrow. She hasn't let go of her Matthew bear once since she saw it.

Earlier this month, I really looked forward to this weekend. I was going to be an awesome mermaid and we were going to have a blast. Now? I have no desire to dress up. I have no desire to go out, I know I couldn't stomach it. I am instead going to let Kaitlyn go to a birthday party while Dusty and I look at grave markers for Matthew and on Sunday I am going to drag us all out to the Pumpkin Patch so Kaitlyn can have a good time.

Everything seems so much emptier and lonlier without Matthew. Even in a room of people, my arms are empty and my heart lo