I touch down into my body occasionally with this, and my body rejects it much like food that is spoiled. It is like, nope, sorry, not going there. Not possible. Not one little bit. But, alas, it’s true 🙁

Much like the anniversary, the feelings are just not there, I continually feel numb and detached. There is a helpfulness to this for pure existence purposes, because as you have read, the grief around her is like quicksand. So, I am doing what works, staying busy and working my body really hard. It helps that we leave in less than two weeks for Greece. I love planning trips, and my brain has latched on to trying to plan for every detail imaginable, which I recognize is impossible, but if that is what it needs to do to stay sane right now, it’s fine-ish. In addition to that, it is all the little details, like, does the kid have enough medicine to get him through until we get back. Are our wills/trusts done in case the plane goes down? You get the picture. My poor husband.

I used to just go run 6-10 miles to burn off the grief, and right now, I can’t, my ankle is quite pissed at all the pavement grief running I have done, and I am trying to baby it to be able to do the walking we will be in Greece. So that outlet is unavailable. Luckily, I have found working in my yard to be really relaxing, and there is no shortage of things to do there. I am working on a weed diversion program, aka, kill and prevent them (the kill the rabbit song just popped into my head?!). One of my summer projects is going to be to put pavers down in some of the areas, which is a learning experience, and physically challenging. Running substitute, check.

I think of Bella all the time on some level or another. Normally I escape for her birthday. I asked Oli the other day, hey, I want to do something to honor her birthday. We came up with the plan of going to the beach, get lunch, go to my favorite artist gallery, maybe buy something in honor of her, get ice cream, come home. Eat a yummy dinner and go see Toy Story 4. Cry my eyes out. Considering the timing of our trip, that I can’t get away like normal, I “think” I am good with this plan.

Ten.

I had started labor already ten years ago. It was on June 8. She was born on June 21 at 1am. It was a long two weeks to say the least. In her life, she was knew how to make an entrance, her birth was no different.

Ten.

As these moments of pause, reflection, these dates come and go, you see me wonder aloud, what would she be like? These are answers that I can’t even touch now because it has been so long, longer than she was alive. When she would have turned five, yeah, I knew what she would have been like. Now? Fuck. No clue. I do have some younger siblings of Oli’s friends luckily that I study closely when I am around them who are the same age. They still have the sweetness, along with some sass, and still are goofy in a way. I can’t compare to Oli at that age, because when he turned ten, he had lost his daddy and sister only five months prior, which is fucked when you think about it that way.

Ten.

I imagine it would have been a big party. I am sure you would have had a ton of friends. I know you were excited to have a party when you turned five after we got back from our trip to Disney World. You loved school, and had just made your first little friends, and had gone to one of their birthdays the weekend before you died. You said, mommy, can I have a party for my birthday? I said of course darling.

Ten.

For at least two months before your birthday, you asked every single day, how many sleeps before my birthday? You were soooooo excited to go to Disney to see the princesses for your birthday. You were turning five, I was turning 40, and Oli was turning ten in October, it was a very big year for all of us, and our trip to Disney to celebrate and spend time with Grandma and Grandpa was so exciting. You were also ecstatic because I was finally going to let you get your ears pierced. You were trying to read by five, and ride your bike without training wheels. You were so close to both of those already.

Ten.

For the past five years, one month, and three days my heart has been broken in was that is unfathomable. To say that I miss you does not do it any justice. The metaphorical broken heart literally transformed into a literal broken heart this past February. I keep your grief in its box so that I can live, because settling into the sadness of a life without your beautiful smile and laughter is too much, truly, it would be walking into the quicksand and letting it take me in. So, instead, I try my best to honor the life you lived, which I still say, you lived so much in your almost five years, I continuously wonder if you knew on some level, you had to fit it all in? By continuing to live, I pay tribute to the vinegar and sass that you were, the vivacity in which you took on each and every day. What else can I do?

Happy 10th Birthday Maribella, mommy loves you more than words can say