Can you believe it was only two weeks ago we got the first hint of bad news? Today Jarom and I went to talk to the monument company just up the street. We picked out a headstone for Tiny Baby.
If I were in a different frame of mind, or if we’d decided to wait longer to induce, I might have wanted to design a headstone myself. Most of the options they had were much too cutesy for my taste – Precious Moments angels and puppies and the like. It’s a little harder not knowing if Tiny Baby is a boy or girl, so I wanted something that could work for either gender. I don’t think I could pick out a headstone after the baby dies, which is why I wanted to get things lined up ahead of time. We ended up with this design – we can call in (or have a relative call) when the details are ready, and they’ll order the headstone and place it about 3 weeks after the burial.
Sometimes I imagine that “the upcoming loss of my baby” and the grief accompanying it is like a ball that’s at the end of a long string. I’m at the other end, and most of the time the ball is far away. I can function normally – or almost normally – as long as the ball is far enough in the distance that it’s just an object I can think about rationally and calmly. But at the end of the day, or in the middle of the day, or when I suddenly realize that I will actually have to bury my baby, I’m curled up with the ball. I just want to cry and hold onto how much it hurts.
It’s difficult for me to not know how I should feel or even how I do feel. If I’m having a good day, is it because I’m doing a great job of coping or because I’ve distanced myself from what’s happening? If I’m having a bad day, is it because I’m wallowing too much and I should try to distract myself? What if my day is good and bad? What if the reason everyone thinks I’m dealing with this so well is just because I don’t cry in front of anyone but Jarom?
For the most part, I do feel like life will be okay and we’ll gain a lot from this experience.
But I’d really rather have a healthy baby.