It ain't me, babe

A long, emotionally draining week has past. I left my babies and buried my mother, and the two events damn near killed me.

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After saying goodbye to Bode and Gianna, I walked into the nearest airport restroom and cried.  I thought I was being quiet and private (as private as you can be when you feel like your heart is being wrenched out of your chest, in a public restroom).  I composed myself, and I opened the bathroom stall to find a (kind) lady standing there, waiting, with a concerned, sympathetic look on her face. "Are you okay?" she asked.  I nodded and burst into more tears. "I'll be okay," I stuttered through sobs. "Are you sure?" she asked. I nodded and left, to be by myself. 

The kindness of strangers always surprises me. And I am always grateful when I witness it.

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Right now, I don't really want to write about my mother's burial and spending time with family. I imagine I will, in time. But right now, I want to stay far away from it.

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Once reunited, we spent the weekend together, but apart. We were together, but tried  hard to give each other space, time to rest, and also gave the babies lots of love (because it was HARD being apart).  I was so happy to be with my family again, but also needed time to adjust. It is hard to go from one emotional, exhausting  ride and then jump on another, equally emotional and exhausting ride. 

RWF and I are both physically and mentally spent, for different reasons. So we worked around each other when we could. One of us would care for the babies while the other took a few minutes for himself. When one of us snapped, the other would allow it, or simply walk out of the room to allow for more (needed) space.  Sunday, we were listening to music while I cooked dinner.  All weekend, I have  had "It Ain't Me, Babe," (by Bob Dylan) drumming through my body, so I requested it. Without a word, two seconds later, RWF had that song blasting for me.  We sang along.

There is still a part of me that needs to hide out, grieve, cry, recharge and get my act together. I still have a lot to process. I have a lot of thinking to do about this past week, along with all the other baggage.  But I don't have time for that right now, so somehow I have to do it in the small increments of time that I can carve out for myself. 

I am tired. Grateful, but tired.

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Photos from this past week:

My sister thoughtfully ordered bouquets for my mom, from each sibling, containing flowers from each child (sibling) and grandchild.  The two white roses represent me and RWF, the two pink roses represent Bode and Gianna, and the pink rosebud in the middle represents Baby F.  I like the way the little daisies are kind of hiding the pink rosebud in the center. Little Baby F has not made his debut, so it is fitting that he is tucked away like that. 

I brought home some fun (tacky) souvenirs for the babies (from a trip that I did not want to take):

On Sunday, we took a much-needed family walk to recharge and regroup:

We really, really miss our family walks that we used to take in California.

See ya.

I hope that everyone had a restful weekend (dontcha wish it was longer?).  Coming up this week: a birthday for Miss Mia Gianna.  I can't believe that she's going to be 2!

xo