My baby died. That's the first thought I had when I woke up this morning. I feel weird and numb. My stomach is soft and squishy. I can feel my body getting ready for the miscarriage. I went to CVS and bought Motrin and chocolate.
I have these weird lines in the sand. I'll take Motrin, which is usually of limits during my pregnancy, but I refused to take an allergy pill this morning. Rag Weed is killing my family. We have a long moment in the morning when we pass out allergy meds to everyone in the family. It's a big process to get an 18 month old and 3 year old to happily swallow liquid medicine while the 6 year old swallows her first solid pills. All during the drama, I heroically deny taking allergy medicine myself in order to protect the new baby. This morning, I realized that I could take allergy medicine. I didn't. It just seemed like too big a line to cross so soon after his death.
I refused to buy Kotex pads at CVS this afternoon. The blood is coming. Either I have a miscarriage in the hospital or I have it at home. Either way, I'm going to need more than the six pads I have left from my last period in May. Yet, I couldn't bring myself to buy pads today. That felt like too big a sign that he's really gone.
It's so weird how my whole future just changed. Three weeks ago I bought a TV. I was walking around Target totally miserable from morning sickness. I couldn't imagine eating anyting. I couldn't imagine buying a new book. I bought a TV. I pictured laying sick in my bed for weeks, and then nursing for weeks in the bed. 2014 was supposed to be the year of growing Baby Leo while watching cable TV. Last night, I looked at our new TV and felt vaguely guilty for buying it. Do I return the TV, like I would return a new car seat or blue baby layette?
My husband stayed home from work today. We went to Daily Mass together. We met with our parish priest to plan Leo's funeral. It was all empty in the church after Mass. Even the lights were turned off. The little girls ran up and down the aisle. Jon chased them, while I sat with Father to plan the funeral.
Little Abigail kept reaching deeper and deeper into the baptismal font that is a huge 8 foot circle in the floor with a small 12 inch concrete lip around the edge. At one point both her feet were off the floor and she looked like she could easily tip inside for a swim. It was one of those bittersweet moments when I was so grateful for my daughter's agility and beauty, while a priest next to me is having an anxiety attack about my child's antics. Hey, all things for the glory of God. Afterwards my friendly priest (who was more worried about my kid getting unexpectedly wet than of being sacrilegious in a sacred space) showed me photos on his I Phone of new ideas for our sanctuary, including a scroll iron gate for our baptismal font. I felt justified in that moment. Father could describe Abigail's antics to the Church's Financial Counsel to support his vision for improvements to our sanctuary.
Tonight, Jon and I are dropping off our five kids to a kind and brave friend who will feed them dinner while we have time alone. I think we are going to Applebees. It could be my first alcoholic drink in 3 1/2 months. I think I can order a drink tonight. I'm giving myself permission to wimp out and order a Coke instead. There are a lot of lines to recross again "post-pregnancy" and I'll hurdle each one whenever I'm ready.