I struggled yesterday when the nurses/staff all sitting around me started a long conversation about having babies, how big their babies were when they were born, etc. I started suddenly feeling like I couldn’t breathe. I left and sat in the coffee room around the corner, sucking in breaths, tears streaming down my cheeks. Does anyone want to know how much my baby weighed when she was born? 7.5 ounces. Suddenly not so cute.
Today the gardener came to look at the site. I also started crying near the end. Mainly because we had to keep talking about spring, and May. I hate spring and I hate May. I am dreading it the way you dread getting your wisdom teeth out, the way you dread dunking yourself into a winter lake. How on earth can I survive May? My daughter was coming in May, big and healthy and beautiful. She was coming on her cousin’s birthday. She was going to be a “spring baby”. But instead she is a winter baby. So I want to stay in winter. Winter is where I belong.
Mother of All Things 
I see your point about winter. If I had the same dilemma…I’d string Christmas lights inside my bedroom window…then every morning when I wake up, I might see spring outside, but the true passion of your love for winter would twinkle in lights inside. They just didn’t get to meet your Avalon…I’m sure if they had, she’d be the biggest talk of the room;)
So well said. My 7-yr-old died in February, six years ago. I actually hate spring flowers because they remind me that the world goes on even without our son. I found your blog though Baby Dub. You are a powerful writer.