5 weeks later and the world keeps on spinning...

Today has been five weeks since we lost Ollie. I've struggled to find the words to describe life without my beautiful baby boy. The house is eerily quiet. No cartoons on the television. No beeps from his feed pump or pulse ox. And no sweet little boy talking on the phone to his Grandma or his Nana.

When I was pregnant with Oliver, and even after his birth, questions like "how far along are you?" and "how old is your baby?" received responses like "29 weeks" or "12 and a half weeks." And now that Ollie is gone, I find myself once again counting the passage of time in weeks. It seems so odd for the clock to have reset itself.

Since Ollie's death I've had a couple of opportunities to speak publicly about SMA. I blogged recently about my radio interview for Broadcasting Hope. Today, I was able to speak about Ollie and SMA during the local MDA telethon. It was a brief, live interview. I was able to mention SMA and Ollie's short time on this earth. I hope I made my little boy proud.

It is hard work to go on with your life after you lose your child. Often I make myself get out of bed, make myself take a shower, make myself go to the grocery store when all I really want to do is stay in bed. Distraction helps, but it can be a double-edged sword merely delaying the inevitable tears.

I have a difficult time focusing on one task and multi-tasking is nearly impossible. Neil said he thought it must be like having a massive case of ADHD (minus the hyperactivity). I'd have to concur. Our dear friend Amanda blogged recently of the See-Saw of emotions she has felt. I'd have to agree with her description, too.

Even though we may not want it to, the world does, indeed, keep on spinning.

Neil and I have both returned to work. To Neil's credit, however, he's actually working nearly full-time. And me? Well, I've worked about eight to ten hours a week for the past couple of weeks. Still, it's eight to ten hours out of the house.

On the whole, I'd have to say we're both doing reasonably well - as individuals and as a couple. We try to focus on the multitude of happy times - which can be quite bittersweet. We have our teary-eyed moments. And there will probably be more of them in our future. Thankfully, we've got a box of tissues on every smooth, flat surface in the house.

(Actually, some surfaces even have two boxes of tissues. There's a surface area to number of boxes of tissue ratio I've worked out. So far, though, there is no "app for that.")

While life is not "back to normal," we're making progress. Over the past year, I'd questioned what normal is. I think I've decided normal is what you make it.

And I'm making the best of it that I can.