I wish I'd written earlier in the day so it could be a regular November post. Instead I got some bad news about a family member's 4-month-old daughter dying unexpectedly and I'm crushed for them. Writing about anything other than that seems pointless and a waste of words. I have no comfort and no "God needed an angel" platitudes. Just a pit in my stomach and tears filling my eyes at regular intervals.
Jane was extra fuetty tonight -- just stronger willed, really living into the terrible threes I'm expecting. (She's also still "on" for her grandparents all the time.) All I did was cry and hold her during the worst part of her tantrum, leaning into the chaos and pain. Feeling deeply grateful to hold her strong, healthy body as it rocked and kicked against mine.
I can't write anymore today.