Time goes slowly when you're dead

August 6 was my deceased cousin's birthday.
I visited his grave like I do every year, planted a pink geranium. I usually plant a little white rose, but the plant shop didn't sell them at that moment. Pink with purple it was.
I took Suzy with me, as if I needed to introduce her. But I was nervous about driving with her on my own so I asked my mother to join us. While it was reassuring to have company, it was not the same as visiting the grave on my own. I couldn't get into the emotional space to think of my cousin properly, so just did the physical part, a bit of gardening, and didn't dare to 'talk' to my cousin.( Forever 31.
He did meet DP, he did ask me if DP was the guy for me, but cousin didn't live long enough to know about our IF. Wasn't there to think through DE with us.) I'll go back another time, he won't mind.
Also, if he and I don't believe in heaven, he will not have met the vanished twin. Anyway.

Mom took pictures at the grave. Looks odd, the juxtaposition of new baby and the stone marking the end of his life. I have been a bit locked up since the visit. After a month decided I should write cousin a letter, get it out. In Dutch, so won't publish. Somehow it is harder to write in dutch... More practice writing here..
And so much happening in the here and now to keep me from writing.
We're not dead, and time doesn't go slowly at all now.

Luxury Problems

The renovation is almost finished.
We might even get a proper connection to gas and electricity. Who knows, even water, but that request seems in eternal limbo.
The roof started leaking and ruined a newly stuccoed wall. Had it fixed. and found out the water now chooses the other side to leak through. (Only) minor damage to a wooden floor.
Luxury problems.

The Movers come Oct 15th.
The (empty) boxes came today. 120 of them.

I didn't get the promotion at work. Because, well, I had been Away with being pregnant and all.
And my boss implied I shouldn't complain because I have More Important Things to Worry about. So I do the high skilled work while keeping the low payed job.
See, I have a job. And not getting paid for it like the others who do the same work is a luxury problem. The only reason I accepted this job was to keep my sanity. So I refuse to drive myself insane with the unfairness of it. My boss might've been a friendly coworker, he is not a good manager to me.

Suzy. Yes, my dear little human. There is some magic in waking up in the night and feed her, that small body in the big bed, latching on, relaxing, falling asleep. I carry you back to your crib, but only because I need some sleep myself. Trust me, I wish I didn't. My elbow hurts at weird moments, probably from getting old and carrying you. And some hours later we repeat this.
I keep telling myself that if I firmly believe that broken sleep will get me rested as well I should feel rested. It is true you get used to not sleeping so well. But some days I can't think straight with how tired I feel. A rational part of me tries to tell me that breastfeeding takes a lot of energy, that maybe now is the time to rethink how much energy I can afford to spend on milk, and reducing my chance of ovarian cancer and ... I don't even want to look down the list of perimenopausal risks.
Luxury problems, I tell myself. I'll give it my all.

Going away with HB and the scuba friends group. for two weeks, in Nov. I'm crazy, I'll miss DP, the new house and Suzy so much. Luxury problem. I want to still breastfeed, I'll pump and feed the fish.

I don't know why the previous five years were so slow and everything is happening now at once. at breakneck speed too.
Sort of waiting for something to go horribly wrong. Till then, gnawing the bone and sucking the marrow from this year.