Happy Birthday, Rhys

Today is a day of cakes and decorations, the first taste of chocolate, messy faces, laughter, love, pride and adoration.

On Sami's first birthday she started walking for the first time. We had a pool party. On Rowan's first birthday, he got to spend time with his Uncle Cooper. He got a musical turtle and Thomas toys that he loved endlessly. I burned some plastic in the oven and it made the cupcakes taste bad. On Rhys's first birthday... I wrote a blog, wishing that I could be creating memories with my son.

Rhys Tracy Zael Prescott was born at 9:50 AM on 17 August 2012. He was 8lbs, 10oz and the most perfect, beautiful baby ever born.

We were fortunate enough to have five weeks and five days with him.
Happy First Birthday, my son Rhys.

Not sad... something else.

Days like today I feel like I should just be put somewhere alone, to live out this punishment for whatever cosmic crime I have committed. I just want to be by myself. I want to let my sadness out in whatever form it happens to be manifesting itself in, rather than let it be crankiness, irritability and impatience.

I fought with my husband today over nothing, I think because we are both sad. He said he feels nothing. I won't push, because maybe that is what he wants to feel. I sort of wish I could feel nothing, just for a little while.

Instead I feel like I snap easily. I don't have the patience for my kids... my beautiful, living, breathing children. I am short with my husband. I don't have it in me to perform day to day tasks. The laundry is piling up, so are the dishes. I just want to scream.

Why can't my sadness just be sadness? Why does it have to be irritation? Or anger? Or the desperate need to just be alone in the quiet?