Journal entry: December 2, 2007 The day after...

Yesterday was so emotional. I was about to write bittersweet, but I hope that will be a better choice of words for Friday. Bitter and Sweet.

The day started with me knowing the date before I even opened my eyes. I wasn't sure if I was really stewing in some sadness or if it was just happening out of my control. But nevertheless, it was a day filled with tears.

I had comitted to taking the boys to a birthday party a few weeks back, when I thought the day wouldn't be too hard to deal with. It proved to be much harder than I imagined it could be. I was sad and agitated and stressed and just feeling lousey in general. I felt fat and ugly and lonely without my baby. All this past year I had thought of this day, and yet it seems like so much has happened in one year's time. Then, as the morning opened up, it all seemed to have happened so fast.

As I was getting ready for the party, I practiced over and over how I might say that I was doing ok, should anyone ask. I looked at myself through stained eyeballs and re-applied my waterproof mascara. I had snot all over my face and my nose was raw. I snapped at everyone, I felt nauseous. I almost didn't go to the party, but couldn't let the boys down. It was their first big boy birthday party and I thought it might do me some good to force myself to get out.

Brian's mom called and I couldn't bear the thought of talking to her. I din't want to hear her voice asking me if I was ok or hearing words of sympathy she had to say. Not for anything personal, I just didn't want to talk about it. I reminded me of the day we buried Charlotte and I tried to get into the van after everyone else was loaded up in their own cars. She caught me and walked across the street to give me a hug. I remember looking down the whole time, trying not to make eye contact with her, not wanting her to touch me or hug me. Isn't that wierd? The only person I wanted to touch me or talk to me was her son. My husband. Charlotte's daddy.

The irony of it all was that I had vowed not to bring it up to anyone at the party because I din't want to jump in the spotlight. It wasn't my day or my party and quite frankly it was anybody's business. I dried up my tears for a good while and no one could tell the wiser, I think so anyways. But there was a man there, the Birthday Boy's grandpa, that talked with me for a while. He was telling me a story about a woman and her children in an airport in North Carolina. Yep, you guessed Charlotte, N.C. He must've said that name 3-4 times and each time I grinned a little inside.

After the party I got in the van and bawled. Maybe it was the warmth of the van's interior that made me feel safe, but man! I let it rip! After I got gas, picked up a vest I went home. I just wanted to be quiet. The boys had a great time and began to drift off in the car. Solitude.Or maybe moreso a sugar drop. When I got home, all I wanted to do was hug Brian. I needed to smell him and feel his strong arms. Even though he doesn't say much, sometimes all I need is a shoulder. His shoulders.

We had a minor altercation with A in the afternoon and she was pretty upset. I don't think she even knew why I was crying all day, not remembering what the day was. Then I wondered if she did know and how was she feeling? She's so tough to read. Part of it is her age, but she keeps things inside quite often. But I never talked about it with her. I didn't want to focus on it if it wasn't bothering her at all, but maybe I should have asked anyways.

Brian ended up making us dinner. We ate by candelight. He drank wine. How fancy-schmantzy. We never drink wine, but it was a nice touch. We hardly spoke of Charlotte. A while later a girl came by to pick up some stuff from Freecycle... Do you ever get the impression God is blowing you a kiss from heaven? Like He gives you a little bit of sweetness at the exact time you need encouragement? He did that for me again last night.

The girl came up to ge the stuff and I happened to be outside. Coco ran out to greet her and we spoke momentarily about her. Then the girl asks if I had recently had a baby. I said yes, but she died and she said "Me, too." I told her how sorry I was and we chatted for a bit more. I was slack jawed when she said it was one year ago, last night, that her baby boy was also Stillborn. We both cried for a minute and talked more. She ended up hanging out for over an hour with me and Brian on our front porch. The best part was that she is also a Christian and may start attenimg our MOPS meetings. I don't know why, but I felt so much better after she left.

The wekend after thanksgiving my grandmother said that I need to let this go. I was so annoyed with her. How can she possily know what this feels like. And if I'm not mistaken, doesn't she still cry for her husband? Whatever. But I do get the distinct impression some people think I need to "move it along". Oh well. I can't worry aout what other people might think. Hopefully they will nver have to loose a child.