A confession about my last post: it’s a little bit of a lie. Mostly, it’s true, but all the same, it’s trying too hard. I try too hard. Some days. Not every day.
Some days are fine. I go about my day, work, home, relax. Maybe I hear “our song” on the radio and belt it out. Remember her sweet little head and holding her in my arms and think what a horrible shame. And continue on, about my day. Dinner, cuddle, sleep. Her birth, her death, it’s just another fact of life.
Some days, I’m more incredulous than anything. As in, holy crap, my baby died. Because really, how does that even happen?? Babies don’t die. Babies cry and poop and make weird faces and wear adorable outfits. Babies live. That’s what babies do. So sometimes, I think of Amy, and I just look at Dan and say, “Can you believe this actually happened??”
But then there are the other days, where I spend most of every hour fighting to keep my head above the crushing sadness of her death. And I do. I succeed. Finish my to-do list. Go to the pool. Hang out with friends. I laugh. I have a genuinely nice time. It helps. And then whatever distraction is over, and I get in my car, or in my house, or in my office, and I’m just sad.
I’ve been sad before. I’ve been heartbroken before. I’ve missed someone beyond reason. This, though. It makes all of those times before look so trivial. I’d love to be only that sad. Because now I’m dead baby sad, which I’m convinced is pretty much the saddest sad there is.
Funny story – someone recently told me they understood how difficult this time was for me emotionally, because they had a really bad break-up in college and it was awful. I don’t even have to explain why this is absurd, right? Dan and I have been together for ten years, we love each other beyond words and both believe there is really no one else who would be a better partner for us, and I can tell you with certainty that if either one of us had to choose between getting a divorce or losing our baby, we’d be at the courthouse is a red hot second. College break-up. Dead baby. You be the judge.
So, I am having the summeriest summer, and that brings me joy. But if I’m being honest, most of the time, when I scurry off to the pool for hours at a time, it’s to escape the dead baby sad for an afternoon, and it really does help. So my last post – it’s all true. But when I get in the car at the end of the day, sometimes it’s just still not enough.