Re-Discovering Normal

I still cry a lot, but I'm feeling, which is important. When my mind starts to ping and endlessly run images of my daughter, alive but dying in my arms, I do my best to focus on my breath. I want to give grief it's opportunity to do... whatever it's supposed to do... and to respect this process, that we will all most certainly know. I'm functioning.

I'm functioning...that's what I tell myself now that I'm back to my normal schedule and driving the same routes I drove before, during, and now, after I was pregnant. I've always scheduled in time to grab something for lunch at a particular Martin's or Jason's Deli in between class and clients, so it was a bit of a shock to have such a visceral and emotional reaction to the physical act of going from my studio to the home of a client. I started to get nervous thinking of how I'd explain how got from being healthy and 5 months pregnant to...well... now, doing my best not to feel empty. When my clients, who are all incredibly warm and supportive, express their sympathy I cry. Today I cried less than I had been.

I'm trying to accept that my normal is now just a little altered. Like a spoon in a glass of water, I am refracted. I'm back to work, but I'm struggling to focus just a little bit more. I'm back to working out, but after 2 months of limited exercise and 8 days of bed rest, I'm just trying trying to get my strength back. Still me...just a little different.

We don't live in a world where grief is talked about openly. It's hard for someone who has never experienced such an intimate loss to understand just how much work goes into trying to get your life back. Your refracted life. Your new normal.

From a young age I felt that the bereaved, my family included, sort of disappeared. The world went on as we did our best to pick up the pieces. My father died suddenly when I was 8. The pain never seemed to go away. Kids my age would so carelessly play as I choked back tears and tried not to seem too different, but I was refracted. People can sense that. I wanted to hide.

I feel that way again, but now I'm talking about it, letting myself cry, taking care of myself and, sharing my experience, maybe not all the time, but when I feel like I can. This makes the process of grieving much easier to bear.

Losing a pregnancy is not something I'd wish for anyone, but I am thankful for the time I had with Isabella. She made me a mom, and she gave me this gift of my new normal.