It’s my first official day of summer break, and it’s almost delightfully dreary where I am. I slept in, which was lovely. And I really haven’t done much of anything all day. Certainly not anything that could be considered productive. Though I am contemplating going to the library.
But I’m a little bluesy. I’m by myself today since hubs is at work, and normally I don’t mind being by myself (#introvert), and I’m not really minding it now. But I am wondering if perhaps not having just one other person around is what’s making the difference between being distracted from the could-have-beens and actively thinking about them. It would seem impossible, but every now and then I manage to forget, just for a split second, that I’m not pregnant anymore. And then of course I immediately remember, and we all know how wonderful that is. It’s just that I didn’t get far enough along with the baby to be really showing yet, so it’s not like I have a visible reminder that I’m not pregnant. Not a baby belly once and then gone (not that this would make it any better, I know full well it would NOT). But whenever I feel something in the area of my lower belly where I know the uterus is, I just — I don’t know. I can’t totally articulate it. Do you know? Do you know what I mean without me being able to say it?
I need to find the baby shoes we used in our announcement photo, and cross my fingers that when I go to get the mail the pictures I’ve been waiting for have come. Those are the last things I need to put in the memory box. The last things I feel like we have. That might be productive. And grounding.
I talked to my dad last night for the first time since telling him we lost the baby. My dad has never been particularly emotive, doesn’t really know how to handle emotional turmoil. Or emotional stuff in general. And last night as I was trying to update him I could tell he was really uncomfortable hearing it. Hearing about how losing another baby could very easily happen again; after all, it happened so easily the first time. Because, “Oh, it’s not gonna happen again!“. Hearing about how we are trying to talk about it and be open and honest because it’s not a state secret and it shouldn’t be so stigmatized. But, “Only if someone brings it up, right?“. I mean, Dad, seriously — Who is going to point-blank bring it up? Very, very, few people. He quite impressively used many different euphemisms (what I’m dealing with, what I’m going through, my current situation, what happened) without ever actually directly saying: “your miscarriage” or “the death/loss of your baby”. My father has been through a lot of difficult things in his life. Heartbreaking. Things people shouldn’t have to go through. And I realize that all of this is probably what’s caused his fall-back state of stoicism. And I know he loves me. But it’s still hard for me to realize that my dad, like so many others, would prefer this “situation” stay in the background.
Maybe that’s a part of my blues today, too.
I’m trying not to fight the blues off. I think it’s probably important that I just allow myself to feel the way I feel.