Wednesday, April 15, 2009

Random reflections on a week in the life

I am so functional these days, I step back and I’m amazed.
Working hard, producing a lot.
Everyone says how good I look, how well I seem.
I don’t feel well. But I act well.
My grief has compartmentalized, it doesn’t spill into everything anymore.

It took nearly 8 months, but I finally cleaned out my favorite work bag
The one I had with me the day Ezra died
It’s been sitting in a corner
Untouched. I couldn’t bring myself to look inside.
Here’s what I found:
One set of hospital discharge papers.
The book I was reading, The Happiest Baby on the Block
2 rolls of tums
1 bottle of Tylenol
1 protein bar
Everything a very pregnant lady might need,
Before she became the saddest mama on the block.

I have a new client, she’s 5 months pregnant.
Her due date is August 30th, Ezra’s birthday.
She’s delivering at the same hospital he was born.

I had a healing massage.
I told the massage therapist about Ezra.
He told me good things come from the bad, he is living proof.
His mama had a 1 year old son who drowned in a pool.
She was pregnant with twins at the time and she miscarried.
He wouldn’t be here if his older brother hadn’t died.

Another client was so grateful her newborn son was returned to her care,
She told me she was hysterical when they took him away,
You just can’t imagine what it was like...
Oh sweetheart, you don’t know what I can imagine.

Ezra has a spot at our favorite day care.
Where I live, day care wait lists are a competitive sport.
I knew I should have called and told them my son was dead.
Somehow I just hoped I could make that call with good news too,
news of a younger sibling on the way.
But the spirit of that little one isn’t ready to join us yet.
I know she will when the time is right.
I listen to the news, the ‘Noooo!’ building in my head but not in my throat.
And so I am caught off guard, sobbing and wailing in my office.
The door not closed quickly enough to stop the world from hearing my cry.


Gal aka SuperMommy said...

It's so hard when the world goes on as if it's business as usual, isn't it? I'm thinking of you and sending love, Sarah.

Hope's Mama said...

I was watching something on tv earlier where a well known celebrity was visiting some sick and dying children through Unicef. He was saying how it was totally inconceiveable for him to lose a child. He was saying he had no idea how anyone lived through it. I was sitting there thinking "well you just do, because when it happens you really get no choice.
I'm thinking of you as always Sarah.

angie said...

"My grief has compartmentalized, it doesn’t spill into everything anymore."

I think this is so profound. I am sort of slowly realizing this. On some level, this is what time does. Doesn't heal.Doesn't provide closure. Doesn't fix it. Time helps you bottle your grief, spill it out when and where you want.

I want to say I'm sorry you are having a bad week, and yet, I think this week isn't any different than any other week, where the heartbreaking connections, the painful reminders, are around every corner.

Sending you much love, Sarah.

Lea said...

So true, that we compartmentalize. The grief used to part of every moment of every day for me.... and now there are days when I am amazed I have just let out a laugh. All part of the process, I guess.

I was watching the news this morning. There was a pedestrian struck by a train not too far from here... fatal. And I was astounded to hear that people were getting upset and frustrated that they couldn't get to work on-time because of the obvious train delay. All I could think was "my goodness people, someone just died... and that someone has loved one's.. who cares about work!!?" Just another reminder that the world does continue to spin, whether you want it to or not.

Strength to you today and always.

Sara said...

Sarah, so many little pieces of heartbreak here. Thinking of you in sisterhood (picked you for a sisterhood award as one of the people who walk along side me in this journey).

angie said...

I am nominating your blog for a Sisterhood Award, Sarah, because your blog has made a difference in my life.

Anonymous said...

Hi I am new to your blog and wanted to say how sorry I am of the loss of your dear son Ezra. I too lost my son on July 9, 2008. Your last 2 entries hit me - the “phone call” and when the message therapist said, “good things come from the bad, he is living proof”. My hope is maybe one day we will see this too- because right now I can’t think of any good that will ever come of this.
I am Jewish too and I love your passion/knowledge for Judaism. I am having a hard time finding faith again, I hope that reading your blog will restore my belief – it is there just buried under overwhelming grief.
I am silently reading along and praying for all of us babylost mamas.

E in Maryland

aliza said...

8 months is a strange place to be...where life may look somewhat 'normal' and you look like you are functioning. and then bam it's like it all just happened yesterday and the grief is right there just beneath the surface and it doesn't take much to open the wound.

my due date was aug. 30th too. just like your client's. last year i thought aug. 30th would be the best day of my life, or at least around that date. now it's the date that i share with you and with ezra. so many strange coincidences and so much unknown.

sending you so much love sarah