October 29

I don't know what stage of grief I am in, or what the order of moving on is, but I am learning there is nothing that I can do to prep myself for life.  The life I am living is nothing that I thought I would ever live again after Vivi was a part of our life.  So here I am again in this life that consists of Rod and I.  Although we are redefining our life as parents without a child, a new schedule without the hospital, the baseline is the same--it is just the two of us.

Someone asked me the other day what the hardest part of readjusting is.  That was my answer.  Today, however, I take that back and want the opportunity to give a new answer, the answer that i have been formulating since that question was asked.  The hardest part of readjusting is I just don't know.  I don't know how I am going to feel when I wake up.  I don't know what situations will be good or bad.  I don't know how to keep my heart safe.  Every moment is so drastically different than the one before. 

I went to the dentist today.  The secratery knows the whole story of Vivian...she had followed the blog.  when I called to make the appointment, the first words out of her mouth were, "I am so sorry."  The same with the hygentist.  When the doctor came in, he asked in a concerning tone, "How are you?  I have been following your story via the secreatary".  Assuming he knows, I honestly answer, "I have good days, and I have not so good days."  He continues to looks at my teeth, tells me I need to come in next week to refill a filling that has come out (ouch.) and proceeds to ask me, "so do you need to be careful around kids with runny noses and colds since it is getting colder?" Noticing that I am staring at him like he has 10 heads, he adds, "for the baby?" Oh.  he obviously doesn't know.  I have been trying to rehearse what to say when things like this happen, but like every other time, I am caught off guard and things like this come out, "Dr., Vivian died September 21."  In that second, his face goes from deer inthe headlights, to sympathy, to 'oh shit'. And I take this time to explain the story and begin the internal battle of tears, no tears, tears, no tears, until the tears always win.  And in that moment all I think of is the picture of my cousins' 2 babies, one born in september, one in october and thinking, "my baby should be in that picture!"  Thinking that there are pregnant people EVERYWHERE whose dreams of being a family will become realities and mine will always be dead.  That there are 3 month old babies everywhere I go...that they are always baby girls....that I will always be walking around and able to see reminders that my baby is dead.  That she is gone forever and I will never be able to hold her again. 

I want so badly to be angry...it seems like such the easier emotion to have.  I am somewhere stuck inbetween heavy heart and happiness because I know Vivi is happy.  I just feel schizophrenic and unable to consistantly be myself.  Just as I think I have it together, I walk into Sam's and sitting at the entry are 2 women on facetime or whatever with their iPhone.  I can see the beaming face of a new mom holding her new baby--with a little pink headband. Seriously?!?!?  And as the two women coo and oooo over how beautiful she is, I just want to say "my baby, my baby was the most beautiful and she should be in the cart right now, and you would see how beautiful she is!"  but this will never happen.

Perhaps what I am realizing is the hardest thing might not be that Vivi is dead. But perhaps, the hardest thing is that the dreams that have been building up and had been playing in my head are one  by one dying.  Perhaps the reason "I just don't know", is because I don't realize how big the dreams have gotten....how close to being "real" the dreams had become.