The moments that slip in

July 5, 2009

It started Friday at lunch. I'm sure it did. I relayed bits and pieces of Harper's loss to a friend I hadn't seen in a few years. "I gave birth to her." "She was just under a pound." "I was five months pregnant." On the drive home from lunch I thought, "Well you handled that well Abby. You didn't break down crying. See, you can do this."

Yesterday I got a wonderful video from Jason and Laura of Jonas walking. His chubby little legs wobbling as he pointed himself in one direction and then decided to go another. It was so cute. I laughed out loud watching it, over and over. I love that modern technology lets his aunt who is two thousand miles away be a part of that moment.

Jeremy and I decided to do the night-time Sonoran Desert Museum experience last night. We were tag-teaming use of the shower as we got ready to go out. And all of a sudden it hit me, smack dab in the middle of my chest. I had known intellectually, and had even said it out loud numerous times, but yesterday was the first time it HIT ME. Jonas and Harper were supposed to be only two months apart. I flipped the toilet seat lid down and sat down and started sobbing, face in my hands.

"Did you see his wobbly little legs Jeremy?" I asked through the tears.

"Yeah," he said softly.

"They were only two months apart." More tears. More sobs. "Poor Jonas. His whole life, all of his milestones, Aunt Abby will be sad . . . " I couldn't finish the thought. I laughed through the tears, "And I know she would have been walking already because I walked early!"

"Well I think I was a late bloomer, so she might have balanced out on that one," he laughed through the sorrow too. And that was it. I wanted to move on. That was enough sorrow for today. And we went about getting ready again.

Oh, but I guess I wasn't done, because more sobs came. "It's not fair! We have no daughter. I can't help but wonder if I did something to deserve this," I cried into Jeremy's chest. "I know," he said. He put his arms around me and held me. Am I such a bad person that I didn't deserve my little girl? Am I that bad?

And then I was angry. And I started bargaining with God. "Okay God. I lost my daughter. I can deal with this, but you owe me. You owe me something amazing and wonderful. When's it coming?" And I stopped myself. I realized what I was doing; bargaining with God. Whatever. It doesn't work that way Abby. It's not about DESERVE. It's just not. And you know God didn't make this happen to you. This is grief. You know, that stage that you talk about in parent ed class - bargaining? Look in the mirror dear girl. It's right there in front of you.

And I turned and looked in the mirror and gasped and then laughed. My eyes were puffy and red and my face was blotchy. "Are you going to get sick of seeing me breakdown at every life milestone Harper would have had?" I asked Jeremy, worried once again that our grief processes would come between us.

"No Abby. I do it too. Not in the same ways or the same times as you, but I do it too. And we'll experience this the rest of our lives." Somehow hearing that was comforting to me.

It was just a few moments you know. It wasn't my whole day that was swallowed up by the sadness. I realized as I was thinking about blogging about this that I was feeling a little defensive that I'm still grieving and it's been over a year. But it's not like I'm stuck in the sadness any more. I'm not. My days are good and happy and productive. I'm happy to be alive. There are just these moments that slip in from time to time. Bittersweet moments really, when I think about my daughter.