After yesterday’s disaster I woke up this morning feeling quite well, really. Of course I woke up mentally preparing myself for the baby shower, but I wasn’t dreading it or anything. I felt determination more than anything. I was going, and I was going to do fine. I left a little late, but figured getting there late wouldn’t be a horrible idea anyways. Honestly it went exactly as I expected it to – just fine.

I walked in and saw Den’s step-MIL and family sitting with some of our friends. I ended up just sitting there so I didn’t have to search the room (there were 60-ish people there, very large room) for the other side of the family. MIL found me, she gave me a hug and told me she was glad I made it. I told her I’d join their table after we ate. I felt that up and moving tables after I’d sat down would be rude… I mean, both tables had some of Den’s family.

Pregnant SIL did come up and give me a big hug. She looked really wonderful. A sad pang for me, but I had my shower so in a way I was remembering good times instead of thinking about what I won’t have.

We ate breakfast foods from a buffet, oh it was good. I love breakfasts! Step-MIL and the two girlfriends are all really nice and have been very understanding, so it was all very good. We all just chatted about random things. I was doing quite well until one of the friends started talking about her son (2 years old). This friend, well, she’s a nice enough person. I have found, however, that she is not someone I can stand being around when I am dealing with infertility or loss. I basically avoided contact during the latter half of my infertility to avoid idiotic comments, and I’m finding myself having to avoid her again now. It’s not that she’s intentionally mean… she’s simply completely emotionally clueless. She doesn’t “get” emotion. She started talking about her son yet again, involving long funny stories about the cutsies about little boys and how awesome sons are… etc. Uhh yeah. It’s just like, hello?? Remember me? Just lost my son, thanks.

But the timing was perfect, we had just finished eating, so I politely excused myself and went over to the other table where MIL was sitting. As I was heading over SIL’s mom (yes I know, there are too many moms and too many acronyms) saw me and jumped up from her table to give me a very tight hug and said she was glad I came. Then I sat and chatted with Den’s family a little bit about this and that.

Then SIL started opening presents. And that’s when it started getting hairy… just like I expected. My very first reaction when she pulled out some cutsie infant girl dresses was, Whew, it’s girl stuff. I have a lot easier time dealing with girl clothes. But after a couple of minutes and more cute outfits I started thinking about her baby and my baby and I knew that was my cue to hit the road. And you’ll be pleased to know I did excuse myself right then, I didn’t sit around waiting. I gave hugs and was quickly on my way.

MIL walked me to my car. When we were outside she said to me that she’s so proud of me and she loves me and that if she could she’d do anything to make this better… how very much she wishes she could take all the hurt away and somehow fix this. She said she knows that it will take a long time for us to stop hurting, that we will probably never stop hurting. We were both crying. The words fumbled here and there, but I knew exactly what she was trying to say. We hugged tightly and she sent me on my way with a, “Drive safe, okay?”

I am so incredibly thankful, so very thankful, for the family that we both have. Almost everyone has been so very supportive and understanding. Last night when I pulled out the invite for SIL’s baby shower I re-read what her mom had written in it. It said, paraphrased, “I’m sending this to you so as to not leave you out. We completely understand if you don’t come. No need to RSVP, just show up if you feel up to it.” And honestly I think that was just about perfect. If I hadn’t gotten an invite I probably would have felt left out; if I had gotten a normal invite I may have wondered if people expected me to be back to normal. But her handwritten note expressed exactly what I needed to hear. Den’s family has been right there for me, letting me know that they’re there to support me and that they understand if I can’t handle anything. Somehow they’ve managed to get just the right balance of normal conversation and including us in life without ever making it sound like they’re forgetting about Devin or the grief we face. And I know that is the reason I was able to go to this baby shower today. I was surrounded people who understood, who cared, and who didn’t mind crying with me. How much easier grief is when you don’t have to try to be something you’re not.

I’m a little sad that I didn’t get to see all SIL’s gifts, though. I’ll have to ask SIL if I can go over one evening and have her show me everything. Even if I cry, that’s okay. Sometimes crying is the only way to get through something… and crying and getting through it is a lot better than hiding from it forever.

I ended up coming home and working on Devin’s scrapbook all day. I worked on my baby shower photos. It was productive… a little sad for me to stare at the pregnant-me photos, I found myself drifting off in memory and just sort of… staring. Letting the sadness just flow through me like a stream. I didn’t fight it, I didn’t jump into it, I just… let it drift through as it wanted to. I thought about how everything of Devin’s, every memory, every trinket, will all fit into one scrapbook. There will be no pregnancy scrapbook, then first year, and so on. His whole life, in one book. And then it’s over.

I’ve been doing some reading lately and one of the things I’ve come across is this: When A Child Dies 2006 Survey, by The Compassionate Friends. It’s an interesting read overall, but the most interesting part to me was this finding:

I am certainly finding this to be true. My relationship with Den has always been a very close one, though it hasn’t always been without its issues. But there is no time in the past that I felt as close to him as I do now.

Another article I found was this one on expectations of your grief by the Sudden Infant Death Services of Illinois. I found myself checking items off in my head as I read through them.

Like grieving of things symbolic. The loss of dreams. The identity confusion.

The loss of a child is so much about the symbolism that changes: my first child; my mental image of this family; my concept of motherhood. My expectations of life involved these things in a certain, specific way. Everything changed when he died. I have had to adjust to a whole new future, and all of these things now have different meanings. It did not evolve naturally over time like life generally does… my image of motherhood did not adapt to trial and error, did not grow as my experience grew. It all changed in an instant. A clap of thunder, a flash of lightening, and everything in my life was scrambled and I was spit back out into a totally new landscape.

I do feel that someday I’ll get used to this new role. Someday it won’t feel so raw, I won’t feel like I’m still spinning. I’m willing to bet that after time even such huge losses as this fades into your history. It becomes a part of who you are, woven into your timeline. It really does change your identity. Right now I can look back and see who I used to be just over that hill, and it’s very disorienting. I’m just waiting to grow into it. I’m waiting for everything to sort itself out.

Writing this down so I have a record… I’m getting some little bit of pain in my lower left side. Ovary pain? Maybe I’m ovulating??

You know what I hate? The blah days. The ones that aren’t crap by any stretch of the imagination – I’m not bawling, I’m not going out of my mind. But it’s definitely not good either. I just feel blah. (I blame the weather; it’s been raining and grey, and I always feel depressed when it’s like this.) There’s really not much to say. At least when I’m feeling emotionally miserable I have things to write about. I find myself going from forum to forum, reading and not posting. That is so not like me.

I really hate the waiting. I have never been a patient person in the best of times… and these are not the best of times. When I was pregnant every week was a week closer, every week brought new physical changes, every week was new. When I was doing IVF the cycle had a schedule, medications to track, hospital visits to make. But this waiting, it sucks. Not only am I waiting for my period, but I don’t even know when it is coming.

I have to say, I am a little irritated with my husband lately because he is doing far better than I am. I mean, it’s good that he’s doing well, don’t get me wrong – I was really worried about him for a while, worried about how losing our son would weigh him down. I had this whole post half-written in my head about how he’s been dealing with things, how he hurts, how he finally gets the frustration and jealousy I felt all the time during infertility towards those who have babies easily. And then one day he says to me out of the blue, “You know, I’m over that whole jealousy thing. Other peoples’ success doesn’t affect us.” And that was that in his head. Oh he’s still sad, he’ll forver hurt for what we’ve lost. But now he’s being irritatingly positive about the future. He gives me little pep talks about how it’ll happen for us again, and how we can’t let the loss of Devin prevent us from enjoying the rest of our lives. He’s right. Sure. But damnit, some nights I don’t want to be positive. I know he’s nervous about me relapsing in my depression, and unfortunately for him it’s not always easy to tell the difference between a bad day and depression. When I get upset I can see the look of worry in him, the nervousness that maybe this time I won’t come out of it. I just hope he can trust me enough to rant and rail when I need to. Even if I need to pull out Devin’s things and weep for a while. Sometimes I just feel like I’m stuck at a halfway point and I can’t move forward until I face things from the past.

I’ve been thinking a lot about my future pregnancy, whenever it may happen. I think the possible ovuation pains got me thinking about it in a more real way instead of a hypothetical way. It’s scary as much as comforting. There is more worry beyond all the worries about the pregnancy itself, the very real fear that something will go wrong again. Like I thought what if I do get pregnant soonish, when I’m still in the midst of grief. Won’t that take away from the pregnancy? Doesn’t my second child deserve more than that? Then I think about that second child and I’m just overwhelmed by a [stupid, irrational] fear that somehow the second one won’t measure up to Devin. I had this image of Devin, of what he would be, and he will always be perfect in my head; what if the next kid just isn’t good enough? Will I be able to treasure the next child like I did Devin? For some reason I think my next one is going to be a girl. And I feel disappointed by that thought – and then overwhelmingly guilty for being disappointed. I wanted a boy, I got so used to the idea of having a boy, so proud of being a boy-mama… I’m brutally honest here: I’m terrified that I won’t be a good enough mom to my next baby, that losing Devin has taken away something from me that I won’t be able to find again.

When I think about my fears in an objective way I realize they’re the same ones that people having their second child have, the very simple fear that you won’t love the second one the way you love the first one. And yet somehow everyone does. And the fears about it being a girl, well, it might very well be a boy, and that brings with it its own set of issues. I just have to trust that somehow, when it happens, it will all feel right. Just like how I struggled at first with Devin being a boy, but I came to embrace it, love it. Whatever or whoever my next child is, I will adapt.

I’ve been thinking more about asking my primary care doctor to set me up with a therapist/psychologist. I didn’t feel I needed one until last week. When that numbness went away, well, things have been feeling harder. Like all the fears, like dealing with SIL’s pregnancy, like my hubby dealing better than I am. Now I didn’t have much luck the last time I saw a therapist (when I was first diagnosed) – I felt like I was politely explaining things to a stranger. I didn’t get a whole lot of feedback and I certainly didn’t feel like I walked out of our sessions any better than I walked in. Maybe it was just a bad match, I don’t know. Maybe my writing and online support groups are just more my style – writing has always been easier for me than talking.

The other issue is that I’m a little concerned about money. There’s the chiroprator (whom I still haven’t gone back to see since Devin died), the dentist (I have an appointment tomorrow and I know I will be needing work on my teeth in the future, not all of which is covered), and then a therapist? Not to mention when I get pregnant again I’ll be seeing the same midwives at the hospital which of course has that lovely additional co-pay for “outpatient services” tacked on to every single damn visit. I know my health is important and I’m trying to do everything I can, but damnit, the US system really makes you not want to take care of yourself proactively.

So yeah, dentist appointment tomorrow afternoon. Just the initial intake x-rays and history, next week is my oral exam with the dentist herself. I finally got added to Den’s insurance, but I have my doubts as to when it’ll kick in so we may be shit out of luck for tomorrow’s visit – but I really can’t put this off any longer. My teeth are still hurting and I need to get everything taken care of before I get pregnant. I may have some cavaties to get filled (I haven’t seen a dentist in 4 years, I’ll be shocked if there’s nothing wrong), and I’m willing to bet they’re going to want to remove my wisdom teeth (yep, still have all four of them) – the idea of getting them remove always made me freak the hell out (did I mention I severely dislike dentists?), but after losing Devin… well, removing some wisdom teeth doesn’t sound quite so scary anymore. And I can see the problems it’s causing in my jaw, too. Sigh.

I have to say though, when the numbness left me so did the desire to take care of my body. I have had very little appetite for a week… I can eat if there’s food in front of me, but the actual desire to eat is null and void. I really have to force myself to get something out of the kitchen or I will go an entire day eating just a granola bar and bowl of cereal. I have little energy for exercising, eating, showering… and when I think about the things I ought to do there’s that voice in my head that says, “Why bother?” And some days I just can’t come up with a good enough answer.

I think I am [getting] sick. My throat is scratchy and hurts when I swallow. Bugger.