The Sick is still not getting better. In fact, it is getting worse. I woke up this morning feeling like something had died in my throat. Luckily that did not stick around all day (why are sore throats always worse in the mornings?), but the body aches did. Ugh. I’ve had the kind of flu where you’re puking and snotty, but I never really understood the whole “body ache” thing. It’s so weird. It’s kind of like I over-exercised except, well, I didn’t exercise. And it’s weird parts like my sides and lower back. My legs started aching when I went to bed, too. The being stuffed up, though, that feels normal. I guess I just kind of got used to that during pregnancy… it’s felt very strange the last few months to be able to breathe clearly.

And no, I don’t think I’m pregnant. Just a damn virus.

::

I was laying here in bed thinking about autopsy results. I realized just how much knowing what happened to Devin has helped me work through things. Knowing that it was a freak accident, I don’t spend time worrying about it happening again. After he died I really worried that it was a cord accident… that me waking up on my back had killed my baby. I felt so much guilt, wondering if something I had done had caused this. It was such a relief, in a way, to know that there was nothing to be done… nothing to be seen, nothing to be prevented. There was nothing anyone could have done to prevent this, save for delivering him early. And without any way of knowing something was wrong, that was never even a consideration.

I was thinking about how in as much as half of stillbirth cases no one can determine the cause. That would SUCK so bad. I think I’d drive myself mad with the what-ifs… and the fear, oh the fear. If I thought it was something that could easily happen again, like a simple cord accident? Or something unknown that took my baby? Going through it again would be more than terrifying… it would be just waiting for it to happen again. Not that I won’t be scared out of my wits. But it’s different. I have some sense of reassurance.

::

My mind also drifts to the way we have Devin around us. I think we have something of Devin’s in every room – not intentionally, but it just turned out that way. I always figured that would be upsetting, but it seems kind of normal now to have his memorial quilt hanging above my bed, his photos in my living room. Even things that were unintentional, like the still-in-a-box crib that still rests against the wall in Den’s office. We don’t really have anywhere to put it, so it stays there. And it just seems normal to have it there, waiting for the next time. I feel comforted by these things.

Our house has not become a museum, like Den feared. It is not ALL Devin… but he is simply sprinkled throughout, as if it’s natural to have a photo of my pregnancy beside a wedding photo. And it is. We’ve adapted to our new normal.

We talk of the “next kid” and reference our “living children” when talking about plans. There is Devin, and there will be more.

And there will always be space for Devin’s things on the wall.