With our previous loss, Double A and I made sure we showered and got dressed every day, and left the house. Some times it was just to walk to the corner Star.bucks. Other times it was for a much-needed drink. But mostly it was to keep us amongst the living. That was what we knew, and so that is what we are following this time around. The days blur together, in spite of seemingly dragging on. Since coming home last Wednesday, we have run countless, meaningless errands and found excuses to get out of the house, although I couldn’t tell you where we’ve been or what we’ve done.
Sunday night came way too fast, and yesterday Double A had to go back to work. Not because he wanted to, or was ready to, but because he had just recently started this job less than a month ago. That said, his new bosses and company have been extremely kind and understanding, and are providing him the flexibility to work from home. My work, having been with us through losses #3 and #4, has been great as well. I stopped in yesterday before anyone was there to pick up materials to attempt to work from home. In and out in less than 20 minutes, I only ran into one person who made the obvious glance at my belly, having seen me last week in my first out-in-the-open yes, I am pregnant maternity top. Now the work is here, and while I’m not getting a ton done, I am making some strides and appreciate being able to do so under the anonymity of being at home.
Last night’s Am.bien must have finally kicked in because I woke this morning at 7:30 and Double A was already gone. It was a tough morning, compounded by the quiet of being home alone. Double A had come home yesterday by 1:00, and I knew the same would apply for today. But there was no stopping the blanket of sadness that enveloped me. The tears would come on out of nowhere, as if someone was controlling my water works from an undisclosed location. Sometimes they’d hit long and hard, and other times a brief deluge. In between, I pulled it together and got some work done. Small victories.
I finally forced myself to take the still-dreaded shower with the goal of running to Tar.get, the grocery store, and to gas up the car. Teary mission accomplished, and off I went. I was already dreading going to my favorite super store, as I knew I’d be forced to navigate around the in-your-face kids’ section front and center of the store. But I wasn’t expecting this. You know who goes to Tar.get during a Tuesday afternoon? Moms and their babies. Nannies and their toddlers. And while I’m sure there were other people there, it was as if everyone but these two groups were being grayed out. It took everything I had not to lose it in the center aisle. And, I had to stop myself from going up to each and every one of them and shouting, DO YOU KNOW HOW LUCKY YOU ARE?!? Have I really turned into that person? No, I didn’t go up to them, so I am not that person. Again, small victories.
Our therapist keeps telling us we’re in survival mode right now, and I guess that’s the only way to describe it. It isn’t a time to think, or do, or make decisions. It’s just a time to be. To be sad. To be numb. To be angry. And sometimes to not know where the fuck you are and what the hell is going on.