I don't think the finality of all this has really hit us. At least it hasn't really hit me. There is this tiny piece of me that hopes this is just a (freaking huge) bump in the road and everything will work out. The rational side of my brain is trying to talk some sense into that tiny piece of me...but it doesn't want to listen.
I get up every morning and try not to think about it all. If I do, then it starts to get ugly...and the hour drive to work where I carry on a full-on monologues with myself does little to bring my level of insanity down. By the time I get to work I am wound up so tight...it's only a matter of time until the stress of work pushes me over the edge. I have wound up crying at work more than a few times over the last two weeks...most the time over something insignificant, like the printer being out of paper.
I haven't been back in the nursery since I piled everything in and shut the door. I know I have to deal with it, but I feel like opening that door would open the floodgates and I'm not in the mood to dig myself out of that pit.
Nathan and I are taking next week off and going away together. We're going somewhere away from phones and internet and TV and twin parenting books and quilts and a rooms full of matching twin stuff. I am hoping we can use the trip to let our hurts hurt and begin to heal.