I count the days I have been without William, 58 today. I count the weeks he's still supposed to be with me, 6 and one half. I count the number of things I walked out of the hospital with, 1 ( a box, a bereavement box, not my son!). I count the days I stayed in bed (getting up only because I felt I had to) after this happened 4. I count the number of people who came to my rescue IRL in the few days after it all happenend, 5.
I count the number of support groups I attend 3. I count how many things I gave up or did in order to have a "healthy" pregnancy, 5. I am now counting the things I have done for myself since this all happened, so far it equals 1!
I am tired of counting! I am sure I will count more like the days I suffer the most, being holidays or anniversarys or birthdays.
I realized the other night after 1 of my support groups that I have a little under a year before Williams 1st birthday. That Shan and I both will be having our birthdays without the son we were supposed to have with us. That my nephew will be celebrating his 9th birthday without the cousin he is supposed ot have. To say the least numbers are seeming to get in the way. I am not liking numbers, not that I ever did before but now I am starting to really dislike them.
Editied to add: The count of hateful reminders I get in the mail is up to more than 10 now. Yesterday I received Similac formula in the mail! Yeah! Thanks a lot Similac!