At last week #1 of work is over. I get a day’s reprieve, then back at it on Monday again.
I cried a lot this past week. As much despair and hurt I felt at intervals, the crying actually felt good, too. I was worried to return to work because I was afraid of crying. I told that to our spiritual father last week when we met with him. His response? “Well, then cry, and if people think that’s strange or ask what’s wrong, just explain to them that your baby just died and you feel sad.” Maybe that wouldn’t work for everyone, but that was exactly what I needed to hear. Freedom to feel what I feel. Freedom to not be afraid of being sad.
I think I would’ve exploded a couple of times if he hadn’t said that. But since I could cry, I did. It was good.
Today I didn’t shed a single tear. Not when a baby came into the library, not even at church with the dozens of vocalising babies. I felt my shattered heart rattle with pain a little bit, but no tears.
I know some days will be better and some days will be worse. Today was one of the better days, and I’m thankful for these days. If I can have enough of these, I can keep moving forward and feel like life goes on.
I was also relieved to see my pregnant supervisor is going on vacation for two weeks. Maybe the next two weeks will get better, too?