Thesaurus

I don’t interact much with anyone lately. When I do, there are some tentative “How are you doing . . . ?” moments, some of which seem to be genuine inquiries about my well-being. Others come off feeling like cursory, obligatory, awkward attempts to acknowledge – without actually bringing up – the fact that my baby died.

I never know how to answer. How am I doing? Am I dealing well with my grief? Have I completely fallen apart? I’m not even sure how I feel at any given moment. It’s become difficult to write because I have no words for this. And I can’t find the right word to describe my emotions. Sad isn’t painful enough. Grieving doesn’t include all the times I feel mostly normal. Lousy is too casual. Despondent ignores the sharp moments of pain and anxiety. The closest I can come is to say I feel bereaved.

I don’t consciously think about Christian’s death often; it lurks in my mind, much as I have a paper due next week and I haven’t even chosen a topic or I need to pay the gas bill soon might. It feels like I need to somehow “deal with” his death, though what that entails I have no idea. Some poor logic makes me believe that if I were able to “deal with it,” I could wrap the whole experience up in a nice little mental compartment and not be affected by it anymore. How preposterous! I firmly believe that even though I’ll gradually feel differently than I do now, losing Christian will always affect me. For now, I’m trying to accept that I feel, as a person, dulled and muted. As if I can’t be happy in the way I was before Christian died.

So I read, and paint, and sleep, and occasionally do useful things like go grocery shopping or make the bed. I let life happen with minimal involvement on my part. When an image of that day in the hospital flashes into my mind, I feel a clutch of fear – fear of how painful it is to really feel the loss of my child. It’s so hard to allow myself to hurt like that. Instead, I force myself to make do with feeling sad, grieving, lousy, despondent. And I hope when someone asks how I’m doing, eventually I can say I feel better. Bereaved – but better.

However

Things that are still hard:

Seeing pictures of others’ newborns.

Finding out that friends are expecting.

Passing by baby clothes at the store.

Explaining to Evan, again, that Christian isn’t coming to our house. Ever.

Briefly thinking I’ll get a diet coke to make Tiny Baby wiggle and then remembering . . . that doesn’t happen anymore. I’m not pregnant. My baby died.

Suddenly feeling sad and knowing I may have moments like this for quite a while.

Moving on with life.