It's happening.

I remember thinking that Isaac would be 7 months on Brody's second birthday. 

I remember thinking it would be hard but I didn't know how to prepare. I didn't know what to expect. Old grief? New grief? Grief that was odd and unrecognized?

I could avoid a calendar and all existence and still know that August 21st is approaching. The sky gets clearer, the wind dusts my hair away in a ghost town sort of way. Tears that seemed distant sit at the edge of my eye lids. 

It's happening. 

Only THIS year I can't consume myself. I can't dive into grief and swim in a pool of tears. I have Isaac to care for. 

So I'm now faced with the tug of war that I knew would be my inevitable fate when I became pregnant with Isaac. 

Isaac know I'm off. He can feel the irritability of me wanting to cry, wanting to lay on the floor and scream for my baby. 

This is where it gets sticky for outsiders. " Tia, you have a baby...why are you sad?"

I'm sure to everyone around me Isaac was to be my magic pill for grief. It simply doesn't work like that. He is my second son. I will forever grieve for his brother. If Brody hadn't died, Isaac wouldn't be here. And that is a hard pill to swallow.