Almost 4 whole months now since I thought my life ended.  It didn't, I'm still here.  In theory at least.  A lot of who I was died that day- an innocence and invulnerability that comes with youth.  I call my Bubbie almost every day now.  I hug my daughter more.  I have learned not to take a single minute with anyone for granted.

But in essence, really, really, really deep down inside, I am still me in a lot of the way that are important- and those ways are slowly starting to show themselves again.   Sure there are still days where I do nothing by cry that I want my baby- but there are more and more days where I get up, go to work, and in the quiet moments shed tears over what will never be.

We did make the hard decision to jump whole heatedly back into treatment.  I can't stand the doctor in charge- too slow and methodical- I have no patience for it- but that is what we are stuck with so long as we stay with our current kupah in RBSA.  I have no idea how we are going to meet the costs and whatnot, but we have both agreed that living on pasta and petal is better than living with the hole in our hearts.

We also took a leap and filled out the initial paperwork for adoption.  We have to photocopy a few documents tomorrow morning then it goes in the mail.  Supposedly we should hear from a social worker within a month or so, but the process itself can take up to 5 years if you are a stickler for a perfect newborn.  We're not so who knows what will be or how long it will take.

Channah is doing perfectly well.  You would not know anything happened except for sometimes when she says something or does something she worries it mimght upset me- like telling me a girl's mother had a baby.  She still gives me double kisses only instead of one for me and one for Gabbi they are now both for me because "sad immas need lots of extra hugs and kisses".  It kills me that someone so small should take on such a huge responsibility.

Slowly but surely I am out and doing more and more.  I have no idea how I will handle Toronto.  I am terrible with crowds.  Anxiety attacks have become my new best friend- but somehow I will manage.

Other than that, stuff is pretty much the same around here.  The baby stuff is still at friend's of ours.  I told Jason to bring it home and to put it in the machsan sometime and to just not tell me about it.  For all I know it is already there.  Channah's room is back to being all hers with no room cleared out for anyone else.  For the most part daily medical stuff is, at least, on hold temporarily.

And I am ok.  I am not good.  I am not terrible.  I am just OK.  It is like floating somewhere between this world and the next, between heaven where my little girl is, and hell where I was and knowing I can't get to either one so I just need to find a way to get comfortable where I am.  I keep looking for a nice fluffy cloud around the midway mark- maybe with a couple of friendly care bears for company, but so far I am mostly still just drifting aimlessly.  I stop and reevaluate my direction when I hit something, but for the most part just sort of go where the wind takes me.

Is that good?  Is that bad?  I don't really know.  I know my therapist and my doctors tell me I am doing really well and that I like to please them.  I know I have gotten back enough of myself to argue with them when I think they are way off the mark on something.  I know I have gone back to shopping doctors until I find who can answer my questions to my satisfaction.  And I know all of those are very much "old me" things to do.

These last 4 months have obviously been the worst 4 months of my life.  I look back at them and time seems to warp and stretch with it sometimes seeming like forever ago and sometimes seeming like yesterday.  It is as if time is made out of silly putty and I can stretch and twist it however I want, but theend result is still always the same.

Me here.  My arms empty.  My soul black.

But even the blackness is starting, little by tiny little bit to lighten like the slow coming of dawn at midnight.  A sparkle here from Channah.  A twinkle there from Jason.  A flame in the darkness from a good friend- and lots more good friends reflecting that light a million ways with mirrors trying to get me to find my way out of what seems eternal darkness.  And I think it is slowly starting to work.

I am still sad a lot.  And I am still angry a lot.  But I am also remembering how to love a lot.  How to care a lot.  How to give a warm hug to an old friend getting married.  How to snuggle my 7 year old under the blankets.  In short, how to be me.

A final change- a huge one that is ongoing and I suspect will be for a long time, is my relationship with God.  Early on in this blog I tried to define his roll.  Was he my father?  My king?  Now I know he is both and neither.  He is only what I let him be and right now, until I heal some more he is nothing to me.  He exists only in an existential way that has nothing to do with me- sure he makes it rain and keeps the mosquito buzzing- but when it comes to me I am using my sechel to make my own decisions- no one or nothing is going to decide what is best for me but me.  I had too many doctors, doctors who play God every single day of their lives tell me "well God knows best".

I believe God might know the outcome, but I do not believe he is working for my personal best interest.  If that makes me a bad Jew so be it.  But as of now, almost 4 months after losing one of my biggest joy's, that is who I am.

I don't know what will be- no one does- but maybe there is a special child already out there waiting for an imma and abba with just our set of skills.  Maybe there's not.  Who knows?  I just know that one way or another losing Gabbi has lit a fire under me to grow my little family into a slightly larger one- and however that is meant to happen it will.