Stumbled

I walked back to my office clutching my salad and saw the guy who’s office is down the hall. He smiled and said “Hey! Are you a mom now?”

I shook my head. Smile-grimaced: “No..er..well…we lost the baby.”

He looked stunned. He said he was so sorry and that we’d be in his thoughts. I apologized for having to tell him, I told him we would try again someday, I thanked him for asking and for his sympathy.

The tears felt hot on my face as I walked away. I wanted to say that I am a mother now, that my heart has changed so much since I met my son. I wanted to tell him how sweet it was that he remembered I was pregnant, and that I hoped he wouldn’t avoid me now. I wanted to say that sometimes I feel like a leper, because some people just can’t handle the grief that surrounds me like a bad smell.

I have to keep telling myself that I’m a mother. This pain is so consuming, so self-absorbing that sometimes it’s impossible to take a step back and look at my life. It’s ok for me to just say “Yes, I am a mother now.” I am. And at this point I can handle the follow up questions- usually the people who ask are gentle and kind. Usually.

But it’s a constant struggle to stay in control. I can feel myself slipping away sometimes, and being replaced by a hollow girl. I can’t remember what I used to think was important.

I know it’s not like me to say this, I know I’m losing perspective…but I hate this life. I don’t want to be strong, I don’t want to heal or mourn. I just don’t want any of this. I want to reach into the grief and pull myself out. I want my baby back.