The Stupidest Thing Some Said, and a Surprisingly Comforting Comment from a Stranger

Eleanor would have been 5 months old today. I wasn't able to finish my work day and am now home thinking about her and for some reason, what I am remembering is the stupidest thing anyone has said to me since she died - and a comment from a stranger that was amazingly poignant and comforting. The first comment, the stupidest(most stupid?), came from someone I considered a good friend. Someone who had been through his own, much different, tragic loss only months before. While I don't like to talk about what happened with everyone, I thought of him as a person who could understand, empathize because of his own grief. So a few weeks after losing Eleanor, I was talking to this friend, explaining what had happened and telling him how it had been since. He listened then thought a moment and said to me,"Well, it will be hard for you because since abortion is legal, people won't be able to understand that you feel like you lost your child." It was such a ridiculous lack of understanding that I could hardly believe it. To not be able to, or not take the time to, understand the difference between an infant, born on her due date, who died just 14 minutes after birth and what he was suggesting is something I will never be able to wrap my head around. I have not mentioned Eleanor to this person since. But then, there was the exterminator. My husband and I live in an older house, on a crawl space so we have a contract with a bug guy who comes once every couple of months to spray for critters. When we found out we were pregnant we suspended the treatments, concerned that the chemicals could be bad for baby. Dan had told the company that they could resume in February, one he nugget was here. So just two short weeks after everything happened, I was sitting at home, alone when the doorbell rang. The bug man. He explained who he was and asked if I was ready to have him start back up. I said yes but on another day. We talked a few minutes, arranging when he would come back. The whole time I prayed that he wouldn't remember why we had suspended service. We wrapped up the conversation and he turned to leave - and I said I silent thank you that he hadn't asked after the baby. But about he was only a couple of steps down the stairs when he turned back. "Hey! Didn't we stop service because you were pregnant? Did you have the baby?" I am sure I looked awful, I immediately teared up and gave him the shortest of explanations. He looked surprisingly unphased, and said simply, "I am just so sorry. My wife lost 4 pregnancies before she had our daughter. Don't lose hope." It was just a very unexpected moment of empathy.

Things that remind me how much I wish she was here

Seeing paper snowflakes or any number of other little kid friendly craft project.

A bunny running through a yard early in the morning while I am getting ready for work.

When I go visit my parents.

Bed time.

When I get out of bed.

Mother's Day and other Heartbreaks

I am getting so worn out with the holidays that were supposed to be joyful markers of first experiences but have become another thing to put my head down and get through.

Other days that have been painful? Super Bowl Sunday 2012 (started as the happiest day of our lives which became the most shocking, saddest one I'll ever know)

February 5th, for the rest of my life.

Valentine's Day, the first holiday after we lost her.

St. Patrick's Day, which in the weeks leading up, before losing Eleanor, was to be possibly my first adventure back out for the green beer that has become a cliche tradition among my girl friends.

Easter. This one was tricky. After breaking down in front of a display of baby bunny books and plush toys in Barnes and Noble, I wailed to my mother, "I forgot about Easter!!" everything becomes a reminder about the child you lost, but the idea that Eleanor would not be among the little, fat babies, clad in pastels with baby animal patterns, sitting in front of an Easter baskets full of candy she'll never eat just killed me all over again.

And now here we are, Mother's Day. What shall we say? I will throw down the guantlet, concede that you may win the battle this year, but I challenge you to come back next year, when I hope to be on stronger ground and can best you. And celebrate with a baby I can hold while celebrating the baby, I hope, is holding me.

Insomnia

I just can't sleep anymore. I have never been someone who needed a lot of sleep but this is ridiculous. I just can't go to sleep. I end up taking something to help me every night, which can't be good. Dan is the opposite. He wants to go to bed as soon as possible each night, sometimes going to bed as early as 7:30 - I wish I was exaggerating. Then that leaves me up all by myself, brain going a million miles a minute. As I write this, it is past midnight. Which means it's time to think about taking something because I am not the least bit sleepy. And even when I can go to sleep, I am back up in a few hours.

Going Back to Work

I have been back at work now for a little more than a week, after taking 6 weeks of leave for Eleanor.

Pros:

A good source of distraction
A reminder that the world is bigger than just me and my grief
Seeing people I genuinely care about again

Cons:

People don't ask about Eleanor
The day keeps going, regardless of my mood
Much of the time, I just don't care about the work anymore

Observation:  I am surprised by how normal I am able to act.  Interacting with people in much the same way I did before.  Things are dumb and funny.  Exciting and infuriating.  Gossip swirls.  Newscasts are created. Tempers flare. And I can operate in it.  Even enjoy many moments in the day.  Spend hours at a time not crying or sinking into my own thoughts or despair.

I cry the whole way home some days.  Then I go to work the next day.  While I can't say my enthusiasm for the job has returned in any real way, my ability to do the work is back.  So that's good, right?

The Crushing Disappointment of the Sameness

The problem with losing my first born child is that everything has reverted back to much the same as it was before I got pregnant.  It was months of preparing to enter a brand new chapter of life.  Parenthood was guaranteed to be completely different from not being responsible for another initially tiny and helpless human.

But instead things are the same.  Except worse because it's all wrong.  We're not supposed to be able to pick up and go out to eat, make plans with friends or go get a drink without careful pre-planning.  We're not supposed to be able to go to bed when we want to, get up with not quite enough time to get ourselves ready for work, opting for more sleep and accepting this means looking sort of crappy at work.

So for me, every small self-centered indulgence feels like an extremely inadequate consolation prize for what I really want and can't have.

This Just In

I went back to work today.   As I predicted everyone was very nice and mostly kept their distance.  Many noted my return with a friendly welcome back comment and absolutely no one mentioned the loss of E specifically.

I think the nature of my loss naturally keeps people from asking too much about it.  It's use too much.  Any question that you could ask is way too personal and intrusive to be tempting.

The news station was comfortably and frustratingly the same as I left it.   Reporters half heartedly complained about having to cover the severe weather that was brewing for the area and made jokes at each other's expense.  Photographers arrived a little late, crazy people called the newsroom.  A good reminder that the world keeps spinning and I have to find my new place in it.