It's been a very busy summer so far and some how today snuck up, smacked me in the heart and laid me out pretty flat.
It's not actually the anniversary of Max's accident. That's the 8th. But it feels like today.
Last year we had just come back from our traditional Fourth of July extravaganza long weekend with my husband's family, as we do every year. It was actually Tuesday last year that I went back to work, having dropped my girls off for a normal day at daycare.
Just like I did today.
We got back last night from our family weekend and I was ok.
I got up this morning and my heart hurt a bit and I had a couple moments when I had to stop and control myself but I had to get everyone up and out for the day, I didn't have time to stop long.
I dropped the girls off at school and I was ok.
I got to work, sat at my desk and remembered the phone call from Mama T last year, only a couple hours into the day. And started shaking.
How panicked she was.
How panicked I was.
How hard I prayed as I broke most major driving laws to get there in 5 minutes instead of 10.
How hard I hugged my girls as I sat on Mama T's couch and listened to the questions the police officers were asking Mama T's 21 year old son who was the only one left at the house with the kids while Mama T and her husband went to the hospital.
The calls I made to the other families to come pick up their babies.
The exhausting mix of fear and relief.
I knew it was going to be a hard week, for everyone.
But I wasn't prepared for it to hit me this hard.
I keep thinking I should be stronger than this, but then have to remind myself that some things I don't have control over and that fighting this pull, like I did a year ago, will not make it better.
I don't have to be strong when faced with this tidal wave of emotion. I do have to make sure the people around me know I'm sinking right now. And I have to trust that they'll keep me floating for a few days while I get through it.
That's all I can do.