rivka | (no subject)

Grief is kicking my ass today.

We went grocery shopping for the first time in two weeks. At the milk cooler, Alex was hopping around being helpful.

"Mom, do you need your yellow milk?" (Milk in the yellow carton is low-fat. She drinks whole milk, in the red carton.)

"No, I'm not going to buy any." I hate milk. I only consume it when I'm pregnant and need the extra calcium.

"But you don't have any yellow milk at home."

"I know. I'm not going to have any milk for a while."

We turn away from the case. She's still not done. "Mom, you drink special milk, right?"

Yes. When I was pregnant, I drank "special" low-fat milk that was just for me, not for underweight toddlers. I'm not pregnant now. I won't be buying any more low-fat milk unless I get pregnant again. Okay? We're not buying milk in the yellow carton BECAUSE THE BABY DIED.

I didn't say any of that. I just sent her off to the deli with Michael. And had the two of them play Letter Searchers in the check-out line so she wouldn't notice me crying.

OMG grief is just kicking my ass today.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Ow. Virtual hugs offered if you want them.

*hug*

Ouch.

Oh jeez, I'm sorry.

My sympathies.

If you kept any of that chai liqueur, this might be a good time for some.

*hugs offered*

More sympathy.

More hugs.

Ow. Here is a cup of tea and a listening.

Oh, man. Really truly wish I could fix it. I'm really touched at how considerate you're being of Alex in all this. I do think it's okay for her to see you cry in your grief, but I think it's really sweet that you're making the effort to let her know there's sadness without overwhelming her with it.

I agree that it's okay for her to see me cry... but not in the supermarket. That's a conversation I just don't want to have in public.

Yep. I'm happy to see you taking care of yourself. I hope it gets easier really soon.

This I understand on a whole-body level. I wish I could take some of the weight of maternal strength for you.

Sorry today has been rough. I hope tomorrow you get to kick grief's ass.

I'm so sorry. I hope things stop stepping up and hitting you.

Grief does that sometimes. It'll get better, in its own time. (hugs offered.)

I haven't been on LJ much and I missed all of this. So this is very late and very inadequate, but I just wanted to let you know how sorry I am. You're in my thoughts.

I'm so sorry. Those random gut punches are always so much harder when they happen in public.

I think one of the hardest parts of the acute stage of grief this summer was that I still had to take care of a cheerfully oblivious toddler who needed life to go on as usual when all I wanted was for life to stop for a while.

I hope things start to get easier soon.

Ow ow ow... I'm so sorry.

I'm so sorry. Grief is like that. You just have to endure until those moments get further and further apart.

*hug*

Grief sucks.

Whenever I think about suggesting any of my coping strategies to you, I always think "Don't be an idiot! She has a PhD in psychology! She knows that!" But anyway, if I were in that situation, it would help me not cry in the supermarket if I redefined that in the direction of "In this in between part before I try again, I can drink caffeine and alcohol and don't have to drink horrible yellow milk. It may not be much, but where is my cup of tea."

Whenever I think about suggesting any of my coping strategies to you, I always think "Don't be an idiot! She has a PhD in psychology! She knows that!"

I would do a much better job as my therapist than I'm doing as myself. It's always different when it's you.

Alcohol and caffeine, yes. And we'll be going on vacation to SUUSI (http://www.suusi.org), which had been struck off the schedule because it was a week before my due date. I called my father to tell him that - he doesn't see well enough to go to SUUSI without us, so he'd planned not to go either. His response: "Why, yes, that had occurred to me. But I wasn't going to be the first one to bring it up."

I think it will be very, very good to have a special vacation with lots of supportive friends, happening just when I'd otherwise be planning a birth.

That is a very small bright glowing spot in an otherwise enormous cloud of doom, oh yes.

I am saddened by the reason, but happy that you will be there. And yes, you will have lots of friends around you doing whatever you need us to do.

Your father is a good and wise man.

I'm so sorry, Rivka. I hope today is easier.

Hugs, if you want them, and I hope today is easier.

*hard hug* for you.

Awwww. She's observant, and you know the meaning behind it all. It's good that Michael is there to help. I will gladly sponsor an extra hug from him to you, on my behalf.

*gentle pets*