Who am I?

I don't know who to be.

And I'm tired of people either (1) telling me who I should be; or (2) simply expecting I'm going to be the same person I was before Alex died.

I am different.

I am tired and angry and sad.

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Today we went to the cemetery and put out little stars and stripes pinwheels for the baby graves. Some of them obviously are not visited often, if at all. There is this one, off by itself, that called out to me and was the inspiration for this particular decorating episode. Little Andrew Huitt. Born in 1927. Died in 1928. There are no decorations and there is no family buried nearby. I wonder if anyone ever speaks his name out loud anymore.

There are other stones there to mark the graves of babies. Some don't even have first names. Some only have "Baby" and a last name. No indication of whether the baby was a boy or a girl. No story shared about how that child's parents came to bury them in that place.

While we were there, Steve said this was a good idea and that he hopes that some day, years from now, someone will remember our Alex in the same way. I do too.

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We picked up our Sam's third birthday pictures. They're gorgeous.

Wanna see them?

Off to scan them in...