Today is Mother's Day in North America.
A day to celebrate mothers and all they do. We BLMs consider ourselves moms, and rightly so.
Yesterday, my birthday, was hard. Harder than I ever expected. I don't think I've cried that much since first few weeks. Literally on and off all day, hard to catch my breath crying. Last year, knowing I was newly pregnant and considering that 2nd beautiful line and a confirmation test the best birthday gift ever. Smugly looking forward to my first Mother's Day and birthday with my baby. I wish I had an ounce of that innocence left.
To backtrack, and make sense of what I'm about to tell you, I should mention we keep the door to Jack's nursery tightly closed. We have all his stuff in there, and I'm always a little stressed that the cat with claws will get in there and claw (or throw up on) the carpet or the upholstered chair and ottoman I bought a few months back for Jack's siblings. So, the door, always closed, preserving his stuff and his smell.
Just a few minutes ago I decided I was going to make breakfast (hashbrowns and chocolate-banana pancakes for Scott, hashbrowns and greek yogurt with fruit for me). I walked into our dining room, off of which is the nursery (it makes sense in person, sounds weird when I describe it) to admire our new pot lights which my brother installed this week & weekend.
The door to the nursery? Askew! It was open a few inches, and the door was "locked" in place by the closet door inside the nursery. Had the door been open any more, the cats could have gotten in there, but the way it was open meant they couldn't. So weird!!! The nursery closet is kept close because it is stuffed full of his car seats and a bunch of diapers...
Weird, right? I like to think (and I never have before), that maybe this is Jack sending me a Mother's Day sign after seeing how hard my birthday was for me. I realize that's weird, because he was a baby and couldn't even establish eye contact for very long. But it brings me comfort to think of it that way. I honestly can't think of any logical reason for the doors to be open- no open windows/drafts, or anything. My brother didn't touch anything in the attic on that side of the house, and he was gone well before we went to bed. The doors can't be opened by the cats touching/pushing on them. It's all around strange.
So, Jack it is. Call me crazy, but I can't explain it any other way!
21 hours ago