It has been three months since A died. Or 13 weeks less one day. Or 90 days. Or... and this is where is breaks down. I don't know what time it was or what I was doing when he died.
I had a doctor's appointment that morning, and we heard the heartbeat, strong and regular. I was a little pissed that it took so long, and, as a result, the rest of my day was bunched up. I had so many things to get done, I wasn't paying attention to his movements. I was usually much more attuned, but he was so active the night before, and I was just at the doctor's in the morning... So I didn't pay attention. I even noted to myself that I am not paying attention. And now I don't know.
The time is doing something funny since his death. It feels like it couldn't possibly be whole 90 days later. Where did all of these days go? But it also feels like it couldn't possibly be only 90 days later, like I have been living with this grief forever, like this is the way I am now. I suppose it is much like the experience I had after we brought Monkey home. A little more than a day after we got home, I looked around my house and saw all the baby stuff that wasn't there when we left for the hospital, and it felt like all that stuff belonged right where it was. So I asked JD how long she's been here. One day, he said. No, I said, how long has she been here? He looked around, and I knew he got what I was asking, and he said "Forever."