Friday, December 10, 2010
I had to attend a breastfeeding class today. I was among
a small circle of pregnant women, most of whom were going to be first-time moms.
The class was going along fine, but I could feel myself growing more
anxious with each passing minute. As the instructor talked about those newborn
moments of learning how to breastfeed, as well as in the months to come, so many
precious memories flashed through my mind... Me and my little Ty-Guy,
figuring out breastfeeding together. The instructor, who only knew that I'm
pregnant with my second child, kept looking at me and saying, "You know how it
is" or comments like that. Nobody thinks to ask if your baby is still alive. Why
would they?
I would nod my head with a small smile that started to waver as the class progressed. My toes started twitching nervously inside my boots, and my arms and legs crossed around my body as though trying to hold myself together. When the instructor brought up SIDS and the higher correlation between formula-fed babies, I knew I was going to start hyperventilating if the class continued much longer. I forced myself to manage my quickening breaths. I hate hearing about SIDS from a purely medical or scientific view point. It evokes too many emotions--some of which I've spent a lot of time working through and hope to 100% put behind me, if that's even possible. I couldn't get out of that class soon enough.
I didn't want to bother Dan, who has been studying and taking exams like crazy this week. But I knew I needed to call him. I barely made it seven words before I broke down in the car, fortunately still sitting in the parking lot while on the phone with him. I just needed to let it out. Despite my initial refusal, I relented and met Dan at law school. He sat in the car with me and let me bawl some more. He said all the right things about Ty, and we smiled and laughed about our happy times as a family. We really had so many, and luckily, caught quite a few on video. I love my little family.
Even with winter killing all the trees and greenery, the Provo cemetery still looks wonderful. In all these years that I've driven past it, I've never noticed how absolutely beautiful the cemetery is, even on a dreary, cold day in December. There may not be flowers and leaves blooming anymore, but the grounds are covered in Christmas wreaths and candy-canes, some lights and small-trees... and so much love. Walking along the headstones, the amount of love is almost tangible, with evidence of so many people caring about their loved ones. We have a small pot of evergreens to put beside Ty before we leave for New Zealand. I want to get a few more items though. I don't like that we'll be away from his grave site...but since we're moving to Las Vegas, it's something I'll have to get used to anyway.
In working on Ty's book, I've been organizing my blog entries and breaking down each month to remember what was happening for me, emotionally, at those times. It's interesting to see the different parts of the Grief Cycle making their way into my life, as well as the spiritual matters. I have also noticed how the devastating entries about Ty are diminishing in frequency... I have mixed feelings about that, but I guess it's a good thing--a sign of progression. Dan and I are still doing a lot of fun things our lives, and that would make Ty happy.
I would nod my head with a small smile that started to waver as the class progressed. My toes started twitching nervously inside my boots, and my arms and legs crossed around my body as though trying to hold myself together. When the instructor brought up SIDS and the higher correlation between formula-fed babies, I knew I was going to start hyperventilating if the class continued much longer. I forced myself to manage my quickening breaths. I hate hearing about SIDS from a purely medical or scientific view point. It evokes too many emotions--some of which I've spent a lot of time working through and hope to 100% put behind me, if that's even possible. I couldn't get out of that class soon enough.
I didn't want to bother Dan, who has been studying and taking exams like crazy this week. But I knew I needed to call him. I barely made it seven words before I broke down in the car, fortunately still sitting in the parking lot while on the phone with him. I just needed to let it out. Despite my initial refusal, I relented and met Dan at law school. He sat in the car with me and let me bawl some more. He said all the right things about Ty, and we smiled and laughed about our happy times as a family. We really had so many, and luckily, caught quite a few on video. I love my little family.
Even with winter killing all the trees and greenery, the Provo cemetery still looks wonderful. In all these years that I've driven past it, I've never noticed how absolutely beautiful the cemetery is, even on a dreary, cold day in December. There may not be flowers and leaves blooming anymore, but the grounds are covered in Christmas wreaths and candy-canes, some lights and small-trees... and so much love. Walking along the headstones, the amount of love is almost tangible, with evidence of so many people caring about their loved ones. We have a small pot of evergreens to put beside Ty before we leave for New Zealand. I want to get a few more items though. I don't like that we'll be away from his grave site...but since we're moving to Las Vegas, it's something I'll have to get used to anyway.
In working on Ty's book, I've been organizing my blog entries and breaking down each month to remember what was happening for me, emotionally, at those times. It's interesting to see the different parts of the Grief Cycle making their way into my life, as well as the spiritual matters. I have also noticed how the devastating entries about Ty are diminishing in frequency... I have mixed feelings about that, but I guess it's a good thing--a sign of progression. Dan and I are still doing a lot of fun things our lives, and that would make Ty happy.
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