I don’t know what I am waiting for, but I constantly feel like I am. I don’t know if its some epiphany (that isn’t coming) or if its an event (that won’t happen) or if its a sudden miracle (not possible) that I feel is just riiiiiight there. Its not that I *think* this thing, whatever it is, is there. No, I know its not. But I feel like it is there. Does that difference make sense? You know when a very punctual person says they will pick you up at a certain time and then they are late? Those minutes between the time that they said they would be there and when they actually arrive is what I feel like I am stuck in. You know they are about to show up, so you want to be ready, and certainly not involve yourself into some other activity, because surely they are just around the corner. I feel like that, except there is nothing on the horizon. Semi-anxious, low lying nervousness, mindless pacing, time occupying but thoughtless instability of what to do while waiting for what is about to happen. Except, once again, nothing is going to happen. Constant anticipation of nothing. I don’t know even when this started or even if its getting worse. I don’t know if its because its winter and the holidays and the darkness? Or if its just because of the simple idea of time? I don’t know if I will be this way for the rest of my life, or if this will ease up? I don’t know. But I know that is has caused a complete lack of motivation, inspiration and excitement, seemingly independently of my daughters death that is exhausting. 

I have made a couple goal oriented type of statements that I don’t believe are new years resolutions in the at all. I have learned this year to give myself a lot of grace and a lot of forgiveness. Holding myself to a large goal right now is not fair. Prior to Sylvia dying, I always had big goals I would set and always accomplish. I had a specific path with detailed steps on how I was going to get from point A to B with respect to whatever lofty goal I had set. When I was pregnant with her, I had a goal to run a marathon when she was 12 weeks old. I know if she had lived I would have ran in that. Someone else might say that the goals should still be accomplished for her, but somehow anything that I set in place to do while she was alive seemed wrong to continue with. As if, because she isn’t here, I can’t do it without her because thats what we were going to do together. Carlos and her were going to be at the finish line. I had envisioned the entire race beginning to end and completing it without her at the finish line in Carlos’ arms wasn’t a possibility. I will run a marathon in my life, I know that, but I couldn’t do the one that she was supposed to be 12 weeks old at.

Carlos’ approach to goals is different than mine. His doesn’t include a hyper planned, calculated path. Rather he simply focuses on moving forward, constantly in the direction of a goal. Since Sylvia has died I have adopted a more Carlos approach. I have some things I would like to get better at, but it doesn’t change or heighten my desire to do them just because of a new year. I don’t feel good about myself when I am not accomplishing goals or having something in the future to work towards, thats just how I have always been. I also can recognize that because my personality is wired as such, Sylvia’s death, in my head, relates to the only thing I have been unable to accomplish which is motherhood to a live child. In writing this I have started to wonder if the apprehension and suspense that I constantly feel like I am tip toeing along is because of the lack of feeling of ‘completion’ with our pregnancy? Sylvia was not a failure, I know that, but a lot of me feels like I failed her. Something went wrong and she died and for that I will always carry a tremendous amount of guilt. So what am I waiting for that is stalling the entire rest of my life? A live baby in my arms? That isn’t Sylvia? Even though thats the only one my arms ache for? I still don’t really know and I am really not putting much pressure on getting to the bottom of it. I’d like to say I know I will pick myself back up and get back to more ‘normal’ or more ‘Teresa’ type routines but I doubt it and certainly lack the motivation to even head in that direction. I think, most likely, this limbo even at its healthiest, will be the rest of my life.