I expected to be angry about losing Ryann. It's something they tell you to expect. Usually I just have a blank sense of disbelief. Sometimes a gaping hole. More frequently now it all seems like a dream. As though Ryann had simply been in my imagination. There's no need to schedule around naps. It's normal now to just pop out the door, no packing bags and snacks. I'm becoming used to not being a Mommy and just being me. And I hate it. And the anger pops out when it's not expected or earned. When a glass breaks. When socks aren't picked up. When someone voices frustration over something that no longer seems very important to me.
I'm normally very even-tempered and probably still appear to be so from the outside, but I often feel like my emotions are out of control. Sometimes there's an eerie sense of peering in on something. Something someone else is experiencing, as if it's not my own life.
I'm angry that I sometimes no longer feel like a parent. I'm angry that we have to start our family over again. I'm angry that this happened to us. That it happened now. That our lives are on hold. And I try to remember that it's only for a little while. That we're more resilient than we think. That we'll be okay.