My life was pretty much perfect before Preston stopped breathing during his afternoon nap on March 13th. I was healthy. I had the most beautiful baby boy and most loving husband in the world. I had the perfect work-home life balance. The only thing that would have made it "better", would have been to eventually add to our family. Should we be blessed with other children in the future, it won't necessarily be better. It'll be good, but it'll be different. Better would be having Preston still be with us.
It's interesting, because that means that I'm no longer the same person. The old Cat died with Preston, and now there is a new Cat. Not to say that this new Cat is not good, but she's very different. I used to care a lot about what other people thought of me. I wanted to be liked. I wanted to fit in, but often didn't. I wanted to be accepted. While I had started caring a lot less about these things after my health issues in 2012, I truly no longer care. If you like me, you like me. If you don't, your loss. I'm done caring about what others think of me. Maybe you find me annoying. Maybe you find me too goody, goody. Oh well. Life's too short for me to waste sleep over what others think of me. Hopefully this doesn't come off the wrong way. I will care what you think of me if I somehow mistreat you, because that wouldn't be my intention. Hopefully you get my drift. I just don't need negativity in my life if I can help it. :)
In essence, I haven't completely changed. I'm a good person, with a good heart. I'm a hard worker, and I like things done a certain way. However, it's now much harder for me to find joy without a reason. I have less energy, less spunk. Motivation is even harder to come by. I no longer like to plan things in advance, perhaps by fear of having my dreams shattered. I rarely daydream anymore. I look forward to things, but with much less enthusiasm.
With a reason, I can smile. I can laugh. I can dream. I can have a good time. Without it though, it's easy to let reality sink in. Reality is, we've been dealt a rough hand, and it's difficult to find a new reality. Five months out, we have a new routine, but it's a painful one to accept. It's a hard one to want to follow. The reminders are everywhere. Formula in the pantry. Sonogram pictures on the fridge. Baby bullet food processor in the kitchen cabinet. Baby book on the side table in the living room. Closed nursery door. Urn, blankets, onesie on the bedroom dresser. Stroller in the garage. Empty car-seat holder in the car. Why not put those things away where they can't trigger sadness? Some of his things need to stay where they are. He was part of our lives, and he continues to be in memory. While the reminders can trigger sadness or tears, I'm thankful that we can have these reminders, because it's proof of how much he changed our lives.
So perhaps I'm a different person now because of this tremendous loss, but I'm also a different person because of my sweet P. He made me a better person. He made me a more compassionate person, more empathic too. He opened my eyes to how beautiful things can be, things that are right in our face but that we're too busy to notice. He made me want to help out others. He made me want to spread the happiness he created.
While I feel fulfilled when I receive feedback about being inspiring or motivating, my ultimate goal is simply to share my journey in the hopes of helping others. I don't need recognition (even if it is nice to receive). I just hope that the short life we gave our son, can somehow change the world... and I know, that sounds truly impossible. But, if I can make at least one person smile every day, I feel like Preston is leaving a bigger and bigger mark every day.
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