I’m not quite the same. Right now I feel like I will never be “over” this. It was getting worse this past week, and I’ll spare you the details, but I hurt for days without relief. But somehow this morning I woke up not sad for the first time in 3 weeks. It’s a start. And one I really, fervently hope continues.
Or my mom will force me to “see someone.”
My mom. For a staunchly republican, business-owning, concealed weapon carrier, she’s a touch hippie. She saw me two days ago and decided to take me shopping. “Shopping” apparently meant going to the natural health food store for a dozen or so “mood enhancers.” I didn’t realize she was buying them for me until she asked me whether or not I would like an AM/PM pill box or if I could just take them on my own. I declined the hormones, but otherwise have been popping her herbal remedies for two whole days.
My mother-in-law. For living on Haight and Ashbury in the 1970s, is such a business woman. When I asked her to drive me home the day of the miscarriage, she was all business. She knew that I wanted no sympathy, no snuggling, just a ride. And though she was probably grieving for me, she did exactly that. Yesterday I needed her set of skills again. Freaking out about cash flow and 100% unwilling to dip into my baby savings, I called her about my declining work load. She heard the crazy in my voice and spent half an hour talking marketing angles with me.
And I don’t know if the placebo effect of the supplements or the hope that the marketing conversation gave me, but today I woke up and felt vaguely normal. And I know it’s due in some small part to my moms.