Who is the master?

I frequently feel like I am the MASTER of grief. I think to myself "I am so strong, and so amazing and making so much progress. I can think back on my dear son and remember with love and happiness. Aren't I great?"

Then days like today happen, and I wake up absolutely heart broken. Today, my grief is the master of me. All I can think about is my baby boy, who should be here in my arms, should be babbling on the floor, knowing how to roll over and learning to rock on his hands and knees. He should smile his silly smile at his brother and sister as they wave toys at him, or sing him cute little songs. Today is a heartbreak day. I am enveloped in my grief, and it is all I feel around me. I am bathing in it, breathing it, living it. It is all my day is.

Todd is starting school. It's very exciting and very stressful. He hasn't been in school in a decade. While we are registering him for school we are also registering our children for daycare. The kids are so excited.

At the registration office yesterday the lady that was helping us was telling us how limited spaces are in the Child Development Centers on base, and that our best bet was to go with a family in-home provider. "You don't have an infant, and that is a good thing. Those spots are hard to come by."

I don't have an infant, and that is a horrible and sad thing. Spots be damned.

And so I am left with the question, am I so strong as I think I am? Is it normal to think I am handling my grief like a champ one day only to be wracked and ruined the next? Is this progress?