Limbo

I tell myself 100 times a day it's going to be okay, you'll be fine, there's so much life ahead of you... I repeat it over and over while deep in the back of my mind I think about things like how I should be putting a crib together. That optimistic part of my brain counters the thought with you will put a crib together, just not today. And then I think about another baby, and of course I want more kids, but I want a baby now. It's a scary thought, to want a baby. Because I don't actually want a new baby, I want Sawyer.
I want to get pregnant again, but I want to be ready emotionally, financially, and in every way possible. Are we every really ready though? Of course not. I definitely wasn't ready to be pregnant with Sawyer, I was ridiculously scared. I picture getting pregnant again and I want to have a girl... in the winter... that looks like Sawyer... and I can't imagine liking another girl name. So of course after 3 weeks of grieving I'm not ready or even physically ready to be pregnant. But I'm scared I won't feel any different six months or a year or five years from now. I won't feel ready. I don't want to replace Sawyer in any way, I just want her here. And at the same time that I want time to stop so life doesn't leave her behind, I want to fast forward past finishing school and being in this limbo state. This place where I should be 36 weeks pregnant. This place where everyone should be excited for her to arrive, but instead they're moving past grieving.
I spent half of my day today wondering how big I would be right now.. How I put up all of my clothes I wouldn't be able to wear this winter because they'd fit weird with a round belly.. And about all of the Christmas pictures posted on facebook and the outfit I bought for Sawyer to go to family Christmases in. This limbo is where we sit at Devin's parents and work on homework, and I'm going back to work in 2 days, but Sawyer's room is sitting exactly how it was 3 weeks ago next door. The walls are brown. The light switches have map pattern covering them. There's a canvas with her name in wood on it and canvases with travel-theme quotes on them. Her sleepers and onesies are folded. Her outfits that are newborn and 0-3 month size are hanging up. The windows have plastic on them, preparing to keep the house warm for the winter. The house that was going to have people living in it, a newborn living in it. It's just sitting over there, and sometimes I still feel like in a couple weeks we will move into the house, but we aren't.
Grieving is a weird series of feelings. Sad, angry, numb. I just feel all the time. And spend money. I don't think they warn you about that part, where you don't want to think about everything you're supposed to be saving for so you just find things to spend your money on. I don't know if it happens to everyone but grief spending is real. Christmas presents don't help that part, but I open my computer and to avoid Pinterest (which has those suggestions now, so of course it's covered in New Mom this and New Mom that...) and to avoid looking for baby clothes, I just shop or write. So here I am, again today, writing.
I was so excited about that stupid crib. And the rocking chair my dad was refurbishing. The crib was ordered, and my dad was working on the chair. But the crib never came. And I can't ask about the chair. So there are even objects in limbo. Limbo is where we don't talk about baby products. Where my aunt forgot to give me the Bumbo pillow the last time I saw her before Sawyer died, and now I don't know if she still wants me to have it. And I'm the only one thinking about stuff like this, and I don't even know if I'm supposed to have thoughts like this. What am I supposed to feel? What am I supposed to write about?
Some friends and family that read my blog have told me I should write a book, which is crazy to me because I just write the thoughts that jump out of my head. But, even if I did think it was a good idea, I have no idea how someone grieving controls their thoughts enough to make sense or stay on a topic.