There's a Dar Williams song called February, about lost love using February's horrible oppressive coldness juxtaposed against the cooling of a love affair. While the topic of the song isn't really relevant, I always think of one lyric.
"and we'll gather all our arms can carry, I have lost to February".
I have a lot of anxiety about another February, because last one was pretty bleak.
February 1st: It became clear that Guinness was succumbing to his cancer
February 5th: I said goodbye to my Big Man.
February 12th: I went to the hospital-discovering I was in preterm labor
February 14th: Valentines Day in the hospital, waiting to see if the doctors would be unable to stop my labor
February 15th: Made it to 34 weeks, at which point they would no longer try to stop my labor if things continued
February 16th: Sent home from the hospital on bed rest for the remainder of my pregnancy.
And then the long agony of waiting began. Each Friday, I could mark another week of my pregnancy. Another week of growth and development, another week where the NICU might not be an inevitability. The remainder of the month was filled with anxiety and the exquisite boredom of bedrest. Suddenly all I wanted to do was laundry. I spent hours feeling minor contractions, counting their duration. Hoping they wouldn't quicken.
With Zoe's illness, I will feel a lot better once February is over. It feels like a cursed month.