10:00 a.mWhile sweating it out at work in a NON Air-conditioned community center, hear my co-worker tell the 4 year olds to BE STILL and lay down for their nap. Cringe inside at her choice of words. "Still" is not a word we should use for children.
10:30 a.m.: Get an email from my new friend, who also lost her baby. I ignore my class for a few minutes so I can read the whole thing, soaking it in. A little support goes a long way, I don't feel so lonely (thanks, Kristen!)
1:30 p.m.: Cry a little in the car while listening to Laura Story's song "Blessings" on the radio.
2:00 p.m.: Pee on an ovulation test, it's positive. Get excited that I could get pregnant.
2:01 p.m: Cry a little, scared that I could get pregnant. Do I even want to get pregnant?
3:30 p.m.: Order a grande iced mocha at Starbucks, one of my new "grieving places" (my others are in front of my computer, my car, and my neighborhood pool). Read the entire book "A Rose in Heaven." Underline a bunch of passages, cry a little, listen to music. Feel alternately sad and peaceful. Realize yet again that I am not in control of the future of my family, and feel a little peaceful with leaving my future in God's hands.
5:00 p.m: Shopping at TJ Maxx, I browse through all the baby stuff and buy some baby boy socks for my friend who just found out she is having a boy. I remember when I found out I was having a girl and one of my friends gave me a little gift, it made me feel so special and excited. I want to do that for my friend too, especially because she has been SO supportive. I wonder why her pregnancy doesn't bother me that much (yet), but Luci's pregnancy makes me so angry and jealous?
5:02 p.m: Pick out her gift and get the heck out of the baby section. Glad that I didn't cry, or even feel overwhelmed. Today baby "things" don't bother me, they are just things.
6:30 p.m.: Walk into the gym, wait in line to scan my card and then BAM, caught off-guard by a newborn in his dad's arms--I hadn't seen him at first, usually I spot infants right away so they don't blindside me. Keep walking into the workout area and BAM, a hugely pregnant lady on the ellipticals. I stare at her belly the whole workout, imagining her little baby kicking inside her with the swaying motion.
6:45 p.m: Running on the elliptical and sweating, and BAM, an image of my parents having to walk into my house while I was at the hospital delivering Kayla flashes through my mind. How they had to fold baby clothes and put away some of the baby stuff that was all over the house, thinking about how they felt in that moment. Start crying, not caring that tears are streaming down my cheeks in the full gym.
9:00 p.m: Snuggle with my husband. Feel happy and settled and hopeful. I love the moments when we can just connect with each other, it reminds of of our old life. Explain to him about how ovulation works and why we should have sex tonight.
10:00 pm: Look at Kayla's pictures, get a little teary-eyed, but not overwhelming sad. More like just checking in to say "hi," Then cry for real because shouldn't I be REALLY sad? I'm just not.
I decided to write out all of these tidbits because I think I can classify today as a "good" day. I felt like I was productive and intentional in my grief today, didn't cry so much that it left me exhausted or overwhelmed, and still felt connected to Kayla. But also because I am still kind of in awe of how many little ups and downs there are with my grief. Daily, moment-by-moment, there is a constant newsfeed of grief going on behind the scenes. Somehow, we manage to keep up.
Glad you had a "good" day :)
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