I feel like SO much is going on right now. In reality, it is.
But I also feel like there's nothing about which I want to write.
In reality, there is.
I just haven't really been able to bring myself to do it.
On Sunday, I had a near panic-attack. Truly. A breakdown. I had to make a decision that I have been seriously worrying about for a long while. And I had, simply HAD to decide that day. No more "Maybe," or "I hope to,"....had to decide, knowing and feeling like I was just in a NO-WIN (what's new?) situation.
If I just had a little more time...I feel stronger today than I did a week or two ago...which is stronger than I was two months ago.
Every now and then, I look in the mirror, and see a little, teeny piece of me.
It's only for a second...because then it IMMEDIATELY jolts me into the reality that the teeny piece of me I see I also see in Matthew...in his chin...or my eyes...in thinking about how he shared my love for music, or that the little smile I am able to muster is NOTHING like what I used to be able to beam thinking of all that was to come when my sweet boy was born.
If only I had a little more time to feel stronger and more up to it.
But I didn't.
So, I decided I was not going to go back to work. I have been planning to go back in mid-May...thinking that we'd have this IVF cycle out of the way and I could finish the year and give my sweethearts something other than, "Yeah, I had this teacher in 2nd grade and she had a baby who died and I never saw her again." I wanted to be able to do SOMETHING I chose...I controlled. I wanted to help take some burden off of John in being responsible for everything. I wanted to feel SOMETHING normal.
And Sunday, I realized that I had to chuck all those 'wants' into a very big bucket of unfilled wants I tend to every day...because the truth is that for me, there really isn't anything normal anymore.
This is all uncharted territory, and as much as John can say stuff like, "Honey, take your emotions out of it...think of it as just a job." I just can't do that.
Teaching has not ever been, nor will it ever be, just a job.
It's little lives, who expect you to be the same Mrs.Ennis who calls them "Honey" and "Sugar" and who bounces all over the building smiling and waving and making silly faces at every kid she sees. Little lives who feel like the world revolves around them because I TELL them that to me, it does! Little lives who have no idea that my life has changed forever and I just try and make it through each day the best way I can.
It's walking back into a world that WAS normal...and is now SO. VERY. NOT.
The thought sort of reminds me of opening up a coffin.
I know that if I went back, being the type of person I am, I would absolutely give them 100% and more...that's how I have always been--even when I certainly didn't feel happy with circumstances, kids NEVER should suffer for what's going on in the lives of 'their' adults. I have no doubt that they probably, after the initial novelty wore off, would not even know much of a difference between the Mrs. Ennis that left in October and the one who came back to them next week. I'd work my bottom off to make sure of that.
But at what cost? It takes so much for me to put on my game face every day. I'm getting better at it, but it still takes a lot.
If I gave my all to those kids, and I would, what would I have left for John?
For more children?
And so, after literally torturing myself with what-to-do, John and I decided that it just was too early.
I have not even really been able to do what I've needed to do in grieving for and missing Matthew in the last few months because of the medicines I've been taking and the 'optimism' I've been forced to muster so that I don't have the guilt of sabotaging any of our IVF efforts.
It's just too early.
Couple these torturous feelings with the fact that Mother's Day is coming up and honestly, I've been a basket-case inside. Granted, I feel a lot lighter having made a decision that I really feel is the best decision for ALL involved. But it still breaks my heart in missing out on those kids.
I really wish that I could go to sleep on Saturday night and wake up on Monday morning.
Yes, I'd rather skip Mother's Day.
I celebrated one of the happiest days of my life last year when I had a sweet little Baby M tucked safely inside on Mother's Day. I got cards, flowers, lots of sweet little belly rubs...and I just couldn't WAIT until THIS Mother's Day, knowing that I'd FINALLY have a precious, precious little one after so, so many years.
I know everyone grieves differently, and honestly, I have ALREADY been so overwhelmed with so many people pouring out love and compassion for me this Mother's Day...letting me know they do not forget Matthew or me and that this is a special day simply for the joy of Matthew's little life.
But this is one of those days, things, times, situations...whatever you want to call it...I just want to be not happening.
At our support group last night, a great analogy of grieving was given. Imagine a little boy riding his bike, fast and furiously. He falls, tumbles and scrapes the heck out of his knee. Big time. He goes running to mom and dad and they plop him up on the sink, getting ready to clean it out. He's just sitting there, sort of numb and wondering how he messed up that bike ride. Then mom and dad get out the neosporin and bandaids, but first get the washcloth ready so they can clean the wound. The little boy SCREAMS! Why? He knows that as soon as that washcloth hits that big, gaping and gory wound, it is going to H*U*R*T! Of course the parents have to wash it out; if they don't, it will get infected. So, as painful as it is for him, they do clean and treat it and bandage it up, it heals.
It's a heckuva wound, though, so it takes a while. And eventually, it scars up and that little boy, even as an adult, every now and then will run his hands over the scar and remember, "Man...THAT was painful."
I'm looking at Mother's Day as the BIGGEST WASHCLOTH EVER. Headed for the BIGGEST WOUND EVER.
And I'm screaming. Like mad. Just on the inside.
I know it has to be done. I just don't want to do it.
I DID think of something I could do on Mother's Day, though.
It makes me cry just to type it. (Cry more, rather.)
I am going to go to Cheesecake Factory and have a piece of their Blackout Chocolate cake. I may have to choke it down, since I'm back to normal with NOT liking chocolate, but...
That was Matthew's absolute favorite, and since he's the reason I'm a mother, I feel it only fitting.