Thursday, July 19, 2012

Does time make it easier?

Tonight I find I'm struggling with insomnia again. That seems to have happened a lot more this month, and I'm not sure why.

Today I was blessed in that my mother-in-law took Maddy for a good part of the day. I've been accustomed to having help with Maddy 2-3 times a week so I can work (thanks to a teenage family-friend we pay as a "mommy's helper!"). But this is the first day in a week and a half that I had a long break from Maddy during the day, and I think I really, really needed it.

But I do tend to be an overacheiver. So of course during that long break today, I completely cleaned my house and accomplished a lot for my business, instead of giving myself any kind of breather.

I tried to take some time this evening for myself, but even that wasn't really working. Maddy kept interrupting, dishes still needed (correction, need) to be done, and I was still trying to be "productive" by catching up on correspondence while watching my show. It was 9:00 at night, and I still felt like my to-do list was piled up against me.

All of that was enough to make me cranky, and not really enjoy my show, and just generally feel a bit resentful. Because I just wanted an hour to do what I wanted to do. Ad for some reason, I had a hard time communicating that need to my family, and I didn't make it happen.

About the time I should be going to bed, I see that I have a message. It's a heart-breaking message because it means that a sweet friend is now on the same journey as me. "Does it get better with time?" she asks.

With all my heart, I want to just scream, "Yes. Absolutely. Time will take care of it and make it so much easier!"

And maybe other people are able to give that answer, but I just can't say that unequivocally.

In some ways, yes, time has made it easier. In other ways, no, the passage of time has actually made it harder.

I wrote much more to this friend, but I think this just about sums up how I feel about time and grief . . .

"Grief is still there, but it has changed. It is my constant companion. But it's something I'm learning to try to live with like an old, worn-out friend whose company I must patiently endure, rather than as an evil foe whom I must swiftly conquer. . . .

 "I'm learning to navigate this journey better, maybe just because I am quite familiar now with the feelings. They aren't as scary as they once were. I'm learning to recognize them for what they are. And recognize what I need in that moment to get through it."

And for this moment, I think what I need to "get through it" is to stay up till 3, blog and cry a bit. I need to give myself time for ME, and just live with the fact that my house will not be perfect tomorrow for my 9 a.m. appointment. I need to remember those first hours and days after we found out we were losing our baby. I need to think of my friend, and her baby, and this journey she's embarking on against her will.

I need to think about how I'm going to spend August 4, Olivia's due date.

I need to come to the grips with the fact that my body had a freakish cycle this week that for whatever reason made me super upset. I need to come to come to grips with the fact I will not be pregnant by her due date. And that other people's due dates are also fast approaching. Soon I will have other people's babies in my life, and not just pregnancy photos. (I can't decide which will be easier.)

I need to process the story Maddy made up today about Olivia . . . how "Princess Olivia" was grown up like me, and she loves "sghetti" but has to eat all her "vegebales" first before she gets more "sghetti." How Olivia loves to swim at the pool. But then Maddy closes her made-up story of  "Princess Olivia" reminding me how she was just "inky dinky" in my belly. But she's not there anymore.

I have to say, I enjoyed listening to Maddy's description of what Olivia would be like if she were big. Sometimes make-believe is the best.

Sometimes make-believe feels like that's all I have left in growing my family.

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