I went back to the psychic last night and feel better than I have in weeks. This women is far better than any therapist I’ve ever been to. I’m having a hard time writing about my experience, probably because it’s so unlike me to buy into stuff like this. I am a known cynic about all things other-worldly. But really isn’t the purpose of all types of spiritualism to give us hope and comfort? Last night restored my hope and gave me comfort that I didn’t think I’d ever feel again. At least for the time being. Tomorrow I might be back in the shitter.

 

Here are a few key points from the session:

 

-I will have a healthy biological child in 2012. (And-she thought- another in 2015 and perhaps another in 2017)

 

-If Tommy Jr had stayed he would have been our only child. He would have been so fragile that we wouldn’t have felt like it was possible to have another baby. She said that there were other little souls waiting to come to us, and he understood that. Little Tommy felt that he had lived enough lives so he left so others could come to us. That makes me sad and happy. And I believe it.

 

-Tommy Jr is around me all the time, even if I can’t always feel him. She said he is no longer a baby, and that he was in the room with us.

 

-I will write a book and go on a successful book tour. The book may be turned into a movie. Nothing I can do will stop me from being pulled towards this destiny.

 

-Tom G will be a star pupil in law school and have a successful career because of his wonderful ethics. My brother pointed out that I didn’t need a psychic to know this about Tom, but still good to hear.

 

So there you have it. Everything is going to be ok after all. Oh, and if I drink less caffeine I’ll feel my son around me more. That’s a fair trade, because I miss him so much I’d give up bowel movements to feel him around me. Hopefully he laughed at that joke.

If you are left home alone for a weekend while your husband has a a men’s golf outing you can be pretty sure you’re going to watch some stupid television and sad movies. You can stay up too late gaping at infomercials and then lure the dog to sleep in late the next day by allowing her access to not just the bed, but the pillows and covers as well. A good dog will take advantage of this offer and stay in bed until 10 or 10:30 am. A good dog will also break the normal rules and get up on the couch while you’re watching “In Her Shoes”, but even the best dog might get a little spook if later you watch “The Time Travelers Wife” and have racking sobbing crying fits. That’s ok, it was worth it.

 

An aside: I didn’t think I would like “The Time Traveler’s Wife” because I loved the book so much. I’m so glad I gave the movie a chance, because I also loved it. The story is just so clever and heart-wrenching and beautiful. The grief and loss and faith that your loved one will continue to appear was so touching. I really was crying like a crazy person at the end of the movie, but luckily when it was over it switched to an informercial Hosted by Mister T that immediately jerked me out of my sadness. The tears on my face dried as I watched Mister T and his house-wife-type-in-a-skirt-suit-sidekick make fried chicken and french fries with absolutely NO OIL!

 

A friend from college found me on facebook and after reading PLM, wrote me to say that he too had lost a child. I feels good to still have people reach out to me. He said something that really resonated. I asked him when they felt ready to try again, and in his answer he said (I’m paraphrasing I think): “Waiting longer doesn’t make it less scary”.

 

I felt like a bell went off in my head when I read that. It makes so much sense. I’ll get my body in order, I’ll address my brain as well as I can, then Tom Sr and I will just have to hold hands and jump over the cliff together. I guess what I’m trying to say is that I think I’m starting to think about starting to try to have another baby. Someday I mean.

 

In more interesting news- I’m going back to the psychic tomorrow. I’ll give you all a full report afterward.

Sometimes I have a hard time listening to other people talk about their babies. Only sometimes. During those times, I wrestle my sneer into a smile. It makes me feel like a bad person. I’m not jealous exactly, I’m not resentful, I’m just…sad. It’s like if you’ve never been to Europe and you really want to go, and you have to spend two hours listening to someone’s great stories about their fantastic trip to Paris. Actually that sounds like jealousy.

 

I’m just not a jealous person in my regular life, so this is new to me. Maybe this is one of those times that I’m not supposed to be so hard on myself. Easier said than done. If you pride yourself on being one of the few people in the world who can be genuinely happy for other people…it’s pretty confusing to keep getting punched in the neck with jealousy.

 

I used to feel like my underlying emotion was happiness or enthusiasm. Then the underlying emotion was sadness. Now I feel slightly frustrated all the time. Frustrated and overwhelmed. Maybe it’s time to go back to yoga, because this frustration is…frustrating.

I had the pleasure of going to a surprise party to celebrate a dear friend’s birthday last week. His wife, another dear friend, gave me a couple of tasks to do. She is one of the most sensitive people I know. I suspect she knows how difficult socializing is for me these days, and that a job would keep me focused and my nerves steady. They are very experienced dog people, so they can be relied upon to understand how to keep skittishness at bay. And I can be very skittish.

 

It was a truly exceptional party. Everyone there was incredibly interesting and engaging. The birthday boy and hostess are so smart, so sophisticated, and so appreciative of their friends. I couldn’t help but creep out of my shell. In fact, I ended up ripping off my invisible mourning shrouds and just having fun. The kind of fun where you’re hoarse even before the night is over. The kind of fun where you suspect you might have been a little over the top, but you can’t be embarrassed because you had such a good time.

 

I told Tom Sr the next day that I think I might have crossed the point where I don’t feel guilty being happy. Now, I don’t want anyone getting too excited about this revelation. I’m not sure it will stick. But for the time being, I think my brain and heart have finally reached an agreement. In rereading the paragraph I just wrote, it occurs to me I’ve probably written something like that before. I sort of remember a couple of months ago writing that I was starting to feel comfortable being happy. That’s ok. I know that the grief goes in waves. I’m just happy right now, right this moment, that my angel is still working hard to help me heal.

 

I noticed the other day that I had stopped dating my posts a long time ago. The effect is this weird suspension in time when I go back and read post I had written in the past. So I think I’m going to slowly go back and enter the dates back in. Maybe it’ll be interesting or helpful to other people going through this to see my time-line.

 

It really feels like autumn already. The sunlight is hard and a little to bright. I feel like I’m getting pushed into the future.

Well, I’m suffering from depression. I didn’t want to admit it at first. I thought: I’m not depressed, I’m just grieving. But I can’t see the point in denying it anymore. The grief is it’s own entity, it’s like having a third arm or a vestigial tail. The depression is like an illness. It makes my bones hurt, it makes my limbs heavy. I feel like the muscles in my face aren’t working right.

 

But I’m not afraid of the depression. I understand that it will come and go, and that I can take action to help cure it. It’s hard for people who see me everyday to understand how I could be depressed and still laugh and joke around.

 

I’m cheerfully depressed.

 

I can function, I know there’s a light at the end of the tunnel (even if I can’t see it). Sometimes though, I feel like I’ve used up so much energy staying straight during the day that once I get home I’m almost comatose.

 

I want to get back to normal, but I don’t know what normal is anymore. Maybe I can just think…I’m waiting for my new self to appear. How’s that sound?

Well I didn’t have the nerve to write yesterday. Tom and I hadn’t finished moving (I still have to make one more trip today!) and I was in a constant state of panic. I’m feeling better this morning- I went back to the old place and met the cleaning ladies there. We all cleaned furiously for an hour, then I headed to work and left them there. I hate to admit that I still have weeks of unpacking to do, but it’ll be nice to start on a new home.

 

The move was as tough as anticipated. On Saturday, halfway through packing and crawling around the movers (yea…I didn’t do a great job preparing) I begged Tom to let us just quit. I tried to talk him into forgetting the whole thing- staying in the old place, or better yet, just throwing everything away. Except my couches. And my china cabinet. And those old English fox hunting pictures I have. Oh and my Grama’s desk. And all the gifts I got while I was pregnant. And my wedding veil. And the computer of course….

 

You see where this is going. I hate stuff, but I love my stuff. Just one of the many endearing neurosis I suffer from.

 

So here we are, August 31st. We survived the due date, Tom started law school, we moved, I learned to put dishes in the dishwasher, I decided I love beer. Not bad.

Alright. The due date has come and gone. The trip to the cemetery was terribly sad but cathartic too. It was a good reminder that we’re not paralyzed by this grief. We are still capable of loving each other and hoping for our future and surrounded by friends and family who love us. And even though I try not to think of Tommy Jr in that cemetery, it was nice to sit with him and talk to him for a little while. It was comforting to see him surrounded by other babies, at least they all have each other to play with.

 

Coincidentally, Tommy is buried very close to my grandparents. My Grama especially was such a wonderful women and so darling with children, I like knowing she’s close by. It’s weird to grapple with not believing that the little white casket has anything to do with where my boy is, and then be comforted knowing that he’s close to my grandparents. I guess it’s good to realize that my brain and heart will make exceptions to help me get through this.

 

Saturday we move. I’ve focused a lot of my panicking on that- not in a productive, I’ve-got-everything-boxed-up-way. More in an I’ll-lie-on-the-couch-and-eat-chocolate-pretzels-and-bite-my-nails-while-staring-at-all-my-crap way. I’m looking forward to be in a new place, but wistful about leaving. All this change is hard. New apartment, Tom’s in law school, work is different…When I look back at old pictures of myself I wonder who that person is. I worry all the time about Tom and my relationship changing because I’m so god damn self-centered now. I’m like an attention black hole.

 

On an unrelated note- I watched the move Up In The Air with George Clooney. I thought it was terribly lame. I don’t understand why anyone liked that movie…did I miss something?

I was not prepared for how bad my period would be. I’m in a lot of pain physically- the doctors warned me it would be difficult. But I didn’t understand that the cramps would feel like contractions. It’s like my body is sending distress signals to my brain: PANIC! PANIC! PANIC!

 

My brain is being an idiot.

 

Tom and I are going to the cemetery tomorrow. We’ve been talking a lot about Tommy Jr’s gravestone and what it should say. Well, we bring it up often, but neither of us can talk about it very much without crying. It’s so unnatural. We looked forward to this week for so long, thinking we’d have a giggling cooing baby. Instead we have headstone brochures.

 

Yesterday’s post yielded a few concerned phone calls. I’m going to be ok, but in the meantime at least I can be honest. This reality can get ugly and I know it can be difficult to read. I know that my loved ones are sometimes left feeling impotent and helpless. Maybe it’s a little disingenuous to act more normal than I feel, but it’s the only way I’ve figured out how to get through the days. I can even access my old self and old joys sometimes.

 

The pain ebbs and flows. It allows me to creep out sometimes and slip back into a normal life- sad but functional. But now that it’s less focused it’s less predictable. The death of a child emphasizes our lack of control in so many aspects of life. I couldn’t control my child’s suffering or health, I can’t control the reactions of those around me, I can’t control the time it takes to heal or how many little babies I see being pushed around my neighborhood in strollers. If I’m not vigilant, I forget that I can control my emotions- to a certain extent.

 

I’m trying to remember how to let things go. At some time in my life- after I met Tom- I figured out how to breath through my emotions. I guess that’s what “living in the present” means. I couldn’t do it with complete reliability, but compared to my teenaged self I was pretty good. Then a little bean sprouted in my belly. Right away I felt my son’s presence in me. He made me tired at first and made strong smells gross me out. He made me yell at some teenagers who were fooling around with a revolving door. He made want fresh fruit all the time.

 

Just when we were really working well together, the plan changed. Neither of us had any say in the matter, or we would have kept it the way it was for a while longer. But the new plan was that the little bean was going to come out and be a baby for a few days. He smelled like heaven and he wrinkled his forehead at us. I concentrated on my baby so hard that I forgot almost everything else, including the things I thought I cared about.

 

When Tommy Jr (former Bean in my Belly) left me, I had to spend all my mental energy on staying upright. With Tom Sr’s patient encouragement, I got out of bed and showered and walked the dog. I went back to work. I saw my friends and worked out at the gym. I told myself I was a mother. But I stopped being present. I snoozed in the past, I pressed my hands over my belly and imagined it hard and full of life. I shrank from the future- letting waking nightmares torment me. The present was so slow and cumbersome. It was lonely in the present, and sad.

 

Once you have some one else with you, in your body, it’s hard to know how to live alone in there. Especially when your body focuses entirely on nurturing that little person. I think I realized today that I should come back to the present. I’ll sneak back into the past from time to time, but now it’s time to be in the present and find a place here for Tommy too. I haven’t figured out yet how to do it, but I know I want to. It’s not exactly hope, but it’s something.

 

I think I’m having my period. I was supposed to be 39 weeks pregnant but instead I’m having my period. And I’m not handling it well at all. I’m starting to have this feeling that I’m watching myself all the time. It’s interesting actually, because I’ve been acting pretty insane.

 

For instance, yesterday I was watching television and that Duggar bitch lady came on the screen with her 19th baby. Her 19th baby who was delivered alive at 6months. Naturally I broke into racking sobs and considered cutting myself for the 12th time that day. I am frustratingly afraid of blood, so I just let the tears drip off my cheeks and nose and marveled that I was even still capable of breathing. Especially because it feels like such a waste of time and effort. It’s never ending- you finish a breath- you have to take another. It’s exhausting.

 

My attempts at appearing normal are getting pretty pathetic as well. While socializing I keep catching myself staring off into middle distance with a forlorn expression on my face. I try to snap out of it before anymore sees me.

 

I know that this week will be difficult. Up until now I was just supposed to be pregnant, after Wednesday I was supposed to be at home with a baby in my arms. The wake that a child’s death causes grows exponentially…until (I hope) it begins to recede.