The last couple of days have not been easy on me. I’ve been having flashbacks. At work, at my desk, with the images of bad news being delivered replaying again and again in my head. It doesn’t send me into a panic, it doesn’t make me shut down… but after a short while I just want to hide in a hole, hide from the memories that just hurt too much.

My pregnant coworker had her first ultrasound recently. She brought in pictures, of course. It wasn’t hard for me to see them or hear about them – it was an expected thing. But I just keep thinking about how normal it all is for other people. You get pregnant, you get an ultrasound, you see pictures of your cute little baby. And I know it will never be that way for me again. Not since Devin’s last ultrasound. Especially since my very first pregnancy ultrasound since that aweful, heart-shattering one was more bad news.

I had hoped, briefly, that my coworker wouldn’t be getting a pregnancy belly for a while, that I would still have some time to recover and get used to the idea. But I am not – oh, never – so lucky. She is already showing, enough that customers notice. Again, it doesn’t bother me outright – it doesn’t feel like I’m suffocating or about to have a breakdown. But it’s very similar to when my SIL was pregnant – it’s there and my eyes keep being drawn to it. It is sad and frustrating, but I keep looking in wonder and amazement and this such pronounced wistfulness it almost hurts.

My state of mind in this is kind of like having a yard that has a mole problem. It all looks okay from a distance. It’s not totally turned upside down or destroyed… it all seems okay. You can use it, it’s functional. But there are tunnels underground and every once in a while you step in a hole and nearly break your ankle. And it’s not like you can just stop using the lawn, either. Some of the holes are big enough to see and try to avoid, if possible, but for the most part you have no idea where the holes are, when you are going to trip. You just hope you don’t break something when you do.

Kel has asked me if transferring somewhere else is an option. And, yeah, I guess it is. But I don’t think I want to. The place I’m at now has been really wonderful with me, has been flexible and understanding about the IVF scheduling. They know my story about Devin and now the miscarriage. They have been kind. As much as it sucks to have to deal with someone else’s pregnancy while I’m still struggling, I know that’s a possibility anywhere I am, and I think the personalities and personal connections are more important than circumstance.

When they brought out the ultrasound photos they showed each other. They didn’t shove it in my face in any way, but they also weren’t whispering and hiding it from me either. I was welcome to come and look if I wanted – which I did, and they welcomed and included me – but they left me space if I didn’t want to, and would have respected that and understood if I didn’t.

At one point another coworker turned to me in a quiet moment while the others talked about babies in the back and asked, “How are you holding up?” I shrugged and told her that I’m fine… it sucks, but I’m not going to have a mental breakdown or anything. She said simply, “We would understand if you did.” The comment still sits in the forefront of my thoughts, days later. There is much contained in that one simple sentence. They understand that this is hard for me, they understand the magnitude of everything that has gone on. There is no judgement for how I “should” be dealing… not just with the miscarriage, but with the stillbirth that happened over a year ago.

It’s always going to hurt – but they didn’t cause it, the shit that happened to me did. As long as I am given a little space, a kind word here and there, then I will survive it.