Some days are just tough. That's the frustrating aspect of grief. It's like climbing a mountain in the rain. Climbing the mountain of life is difficult even when the sun is shining and the sky is blue; but when you add the rain, it creates a setting for falls, slips and slides. I feel like I am climbing this mountain with overcast skies now. They days are still a little dark, but it is not like the monsoon when I first started this ascent to wherever this mountain trail leads me. Now, I have days where the sun peeks through the clouds for a bit, or days where there is just a trace of rain. Pretty good for the most part, right? As soon as I get used to the overcast skies and the steep slopes of the mountain, the skies darkend and the rain will pour. That's when I fall. Some days I can pick myself back up and keep going, or at least stand until my feet decide it's okay to move again. Other days, when the rain beats down, I slip and just can't get back up right away. The result - I end up laying there useless, helpless, exhausted and heart broken. Well, that was my day yesterday . . . a fall to useless-ness. I just missed my Baby Gavin. I hurt so much.
So, who, you may ask, is Rosalie? I need to change to topic for a moment here now. Back in seventh grade I was selected to be in a health research study to follow teenagers through their adolescent and adult life. The University of North Carolina conducts these surveys and a representative will come to my house once every three or four years to continue the research questionnaire. They ask questions about physical health, mental health, marriage, children, drug use, etc. Like I said before, poor, poor Rosalie. She was the interviewer yesterday - on my rainy day.
Here's an example of our dialogue:
R - How many pregnancies have you had?
Me - Two
R- How many living children do you have from those pregnancies?
Me - None
R- Were they abortions by choice?
Me - (disgusted) NO
R - How many were live births?
Me - One
R - Did the live birth ever come home from the hospital?
Me - No
R - What was your live birth's name?
Me - Gavin - wanna see a picture of him? (and then I break in to hysterical sobs)
So, yes. Poor, poor Rosalie. All she was doing was her job - on my bad day. As she walked out of my house (glad to leave I am sure) she said, "It will get better." Bet I was the talk at her dinner table last night!
5 comments:
Oh Lindsay, I am sorry. Bad days are hard enough, but when you have to talk about hard things on those bad days it just isn't right. I hope you had a better day today. Hang in there.
P.S. Thanks for a good helpful talk the other day.
I have been reading your blog for a while now. Gavin was truly a beautiful baby.
I also read another blog, that I thought you might have some interest in.
www.audreycaroline.blogspot.com
Thank you for your honesty and openess in the midst of your pain. You help more people than you know.
I'm so sorry to hear about this bad day and the bad timing of this interview. But I am so grateful that you shared it. I noticed that you described a feeling of uselessness and I can understand how you would feel that way when you are overcome with sadness. But I can assure you that you are never useless. I marvel at the fact that you are able to write so eloquently and effectively through whatever it is that you are feeling. I second what "anonymous" says... you help more people than you know.
Dear Anonymous -
Thank you for sending me to that blog. It's so interesting how we feel like we are the only ones doing this, and when we really look around we find there are so many with broken hearts. Thank you for your sweet comments.
- Lindsay
I wouldn't worry too much about Rosalie. I'm sure you touched her like you have touched so many others. She probably walked out of your house a better mother/daughter/sister (or whatever her role is right now) when she witnessed how much you love Gavin.
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