I remember several years ago after one of my pregnancy losses, I found myself wandering around a few days AFTER I found out the fetus had died but BEFORE my D&C. It was a weird couple of days, as I knew I was still kinda pregnant, but kinda not. I didn’t get out much in that weird “between” time. I was too sad. But – at one point I went to Target for groceries and remember really wanting to tell everyone I passed, “Hey, I have a dead baby inside of me.” Now – I didn’t do that for VERY obvious reasons – but the urge was buried somewhere deep inside of me. Some very crass (and kinda disturbed) part of me that wanted everyone to truly understand what I was going through. That I wasn’t just some woman buying milk…I was a mother who was experiencing a loss. I was devastated and wanted to make sure everyone knew that.
I find myself thinking back to that trip to Target a lot lately. In the last 3 weeks since Dad made the decision to not continue his very short fight against cancer and kidney failure, I feel like my heart has been in so much agony. On the outside I’m going about my life, tending to my family and my career. I’ve been making the very frequent 220 mile drive home to see Dad, and then coming back to my “other” life. My normal life. It’s a very weird existence to try to do the daily chores while on the inside I just feel so broken. So sad. In so much pain. I constantly fight that same urge I had in Target, to tell everyone I pass, “Hey. My Dad’s dying right now. Just wanted you to know.”
However, I also find myself looking at other people I pass and wondering what their tragedy is. Are they dealing with anything like this? Have the recently? Did I pass them in the cracker aisle one day months ago when their heart was in this much pain? Did I offer them a smile?
It’s just a strange place to be. To be having to live my life and take care of my family but always having my Dad and his death in the forefront of my quiet mind. I do the laundry and think about how he used to read poetry in the basement waiting for a wash cycle to end. I load the dishwasher and think about how we had a broken dishwasher in our house for 30 years. I hold my kids and think about the years I spent being held by him. Both physically as I lay on his shoulder talking about my day, and metaphorically as I called him or wrote to him with every dark day I faced. He is on my mind and in my heart through every breath and across every step yet I continue to try to act like my life is no different than it was two months ago.
My point? I don’t know what it is. I guess I just want you to know that if your heart is hurting for whatever reason, know that there’s someone here on the other side of this blog who understands. Mine is hurting too.
Now – I have to end on a funny story because my Dad (who read my blog daily) would not want this place to become depressing on his account.
Yesterday evening I gave Nikki a bath, braided her hair, put a sundress on her, and went to family dinner. We ended up going by a Bar-B-Q place to pick up a pie. While there she decided she needed to go potty. We went to the bathroom and I pulled up her dress to put her on the potty and we both realized at that moment: I had forgotten to put panties on her. Her eyes got real big and I started laughing. I told her, “We’ll run back home and grab some panties before we go to Mimi and Dampaw’s.” She didn’t like the idea of delaying seeing her grandparents so she said, “Nah…that’s okay, Mom. We don’t have to wear panties under our sundresses.”
E spent the rest of the evening calling her Britney Spears.
(After – of course – we went home and got her some panties.)
My mom installed a baby door for us at her house since we’ve been staying there so much.