Routine

It isn't always easy to find a picture which fits my subject for the day.  Sure I can always use a picture of Preston but I only have a limited supply of those, and I prefer to stretch them out,  I thought I'd use this picture today, that of my cat, Calex, taking a snooze... because to me routine equals comfort.  Additionally it also equates to security and to a certain extent, normalcy.

I've been in and out of a routine since Preston was born.  Our routine was always being adjusted as Preston grew bigger.  His meals became less frequent.  His awake time became more frequent and for longer periods of time.  He began sleeping more at night.  3 months after his birth, I returned to work, and again, there were adjustments to our routine.  I picked him up from daycare 3 times a week.  I was getting the hang of it though.  Get ready in the morning for work.  Spend 15-20 minutes with Preston.  Go to work.  Work.  Pick-up Preston.  Feed Preston.  Make dinner & eat.  Play with Preston.  Feed Preston.  Rock Preston to sleep.  Rinse & repeat and plug in other weekly activities like groceries, dishes, etc.

When we lost Preston, routine went out the window.  There was nothing routine about our life anymore.  Routine had been deleted from our world.  I feel like it was non-existent for a while.  Every day was new, different and filled with different emotions.  There was a large hole in our lives, in our hearts.  There still is, but we've learned to adapt.  We've created a brand new routine and little by little, we tweak it to make it feel like we are normal people, even if we are not.

Routine brings comfort and security because I don't have to think about the future, and what could possibly go wrong next.  I don't have to anticipate the worse case scenarios, though, I don't know that it could get much worse than it already has gone.  That security of knowing, tomorrow is a work day, and I'll be busy until I get home from work, is soothing and a time of day that I know I can rest my mind from missing my son.

It was wonderful to be on vacation.  Going to bed and waking up whenever I pleased.  No need to make dinner, or do chores.  No phone calls to take.  To bills to pay.  No constant work during the day.  And the reminders of Preston in Vegas were few and far between, probably not a bad thing.  I don't want to associate Vegas with Preston.  At the same time, I didn't enjoy the lack of signs from Preston, reminders of my son.  However, I think it gave my mind and my heart a well deserved break after a tumultuous 8 months.

And now we are back.  Wake up at 5:00 and get ready for work.  Leave the house at 6:00.  Start working at 7:30 until 4:00.  Commute back home.  Clean the kitchen and make dinner.  Watch a bit of TV and hang out with hubby.  Bedtime.  Rinse and repeat.  Sound similar to your life?  Yeah, it probably does.  That factor makes us like normal people, brings that normalcy feeling to our lives.

Add the hole that exists in our lives and it becomes apparent that we unfortunately aren't normal.  I'd give anything for normal.  To fade into society.  Silence often surrounds me; on the train, at night, during my lunch break.  During those ever present moments of silence, I think of my son.  Of what could have been.  I remember his smile, and coos but I will never see and hear them again.  And then, it is morning again, and the routine brings me comfort again, as I am not forced to sit in a chair and think about my loss for every second of every day.  Routine is a welcome escape which enables me, to savor the moments I spend thinking about my son.  I may not be consciously thinking of him all day long, but he is never far from my thoughts and always, always and forever in my heart.

Does routine bring you comfort too?  If you don't have a set routine, do you think it would be helpful in your journey of grief?  If you aren't living through a loss, does routine help you with certain aspects of your life?