When One Door Closes....

I have to say in the last 6 months this expression, or anything similar to it, has become my most despised "words of comfort".  To realize that 6 months ago our lives were exposed to the extreme grief and darkness that follows a loss such as ours (while it was a stillbirth, he was still our little boy), and didn't know how to make it through day by day, being here today and still standing is amazing.  Mario and I have prioritized, making our family first, and limiting how much stress can come from work.  Maybe this was more of a lesson for me than him.  But it still hurts to think that we should have a 2 month old right now.  I am grateful for Rango. For our opportunity to have another child, that maybe Robbie just wasn't "finished" yet.  Today we took a tree (dwarf tree) and planted it by my husband's grandparents grave (Robbie's namesakes are his great-grandfathers...Robert for Mario's grandfather, and Francis for mine).  It was emotional, and sad, but we knew we had to do it.  We had been putting it off for too long.  I thought the 6th month anniversary was appropriate.  Just every time we remember that scab gets ripped off again.  But as we watered the tree, and cried, the sun did break through.  We came home, took the dog to park and let him swim in the lake, and then came home and got cleaned up.
But I have yet to see what good is coming from Robbie's death.  Or what door is going to open next...it doesn't make sense--still.
I also learned this week that my district is non-renewing me for next school year.  Ouch.  Not completely unexpected, but to think of everything we've been through, and what a support system this school has been during these last 6 months, it was still a bit of a shock when I was called in for the conference on Wednesday.
But, this is where the constant support and people hugging me may have made it worse for me.  They kept saying that this shouldn't have happened, but something good would come out of it.
So, here's my train of thought:  Right now I would be on maternity leave.  In December/January I would have been at work, so any of the situations that did come up while I was out grieving, wouldn't have existed and would have been handled by me immediately.  If Robbie was here, I would still be returning to work in the fall in the same district.  If Robbie didn't die, I wouldn't be here right now, staring at unemployment and another non-renewal.  And I am struggling to see how these last 6 months were meant to have good come from all the events that occurred.
Can't I just get a break?  Why is it those who aren't nice and lie always seem to get ahead, and those of us who do the right thing and work hard get trampled?  Why was it my baby that died?  I just don't understand life.  And while I have been through trials throughout my entire life, I think at this point I am just tired and hurt and want things to happen easily just once.  Why can't life be fair just once in someone's life?

Bittersweetness

There isn't a day that goes by that I don't think of Robbie.  What he would be doing right now, what we would be doing right now, what milestones he would have made.  And each day brought with it a new set of challenges.  One of the biggest challenges I've had is talking to/looking at/ acknowledging anyone who was pregnant while I was pregnant, due around  Robbie's due date, or just plain are inconsiderate about how they act during their pregnancy (meaning complaining about the aches and pains of it, not realizing I would give anything to have felt the 3rd trimester, even late 2nd trimester pains and uncomfortableness instead of this empty ache in my heart).
And I've felt very guilty about this--babies are a wonderful gift and should be celebrated.  It saddens me to think of those women that think having a baby is a competition, and they can be the only ones pregnant at that time.  We should all be so lucky to have healthy pregnancies at the same time!  I thought this was even before we lost Robbie.  I think even more so now.  So the fact that I couldn't look at several women I work with that were pregnant (b/c they would complain in earshot of me about how they didn't fit into anything, and how fat they were, and other normal complaints), because I was so sensitive.
But this week I learned that a friend, someone who checked in on me while I was home from work grieving, is finally pregnant!  And she is super excited, and for some reason, I am excited and happy too!  And while all my fear isn't instantly gone, I feel a bit hopeful about my own pregnancy this time.  You know how they say misery loves company?  Maybe her happiness and ability to enjoy her pregnancy and not worry will rub off on me!  I was just relieved to see that I am moving past this intolerance of other pregnant women.  I know its unreasonable, and I don't know every woman's backstory--I'm sure that some women have stories just like mine.  But I am seeing this as a sign of healing, of moving forward.
I will never forget my son, my first son.  And not a day goes by that I don't wonder what he looked like, what his personality would be.  But to know he is in my heart, and I can move on and be happy with the short time I was allowed to be his mom, is okay.  Its taking baby steps, but its better than staying in the abyss forever.
There is hope, and the sorrow does lessen.  It will never go away---but it will change.