Tuesday, May 5, 2009

Cinco de Mayo

This is not my favorite day.

I never know how I will react to it. For those of you who don't already know, I had a son named Christopher on this day 17 years ago. He was 38 weeks along, was born via an emergency c-section, and lived until the following day. His heart rate was the same as mine when I went for my 38 week check-up. The autopsy results listed the cause of death as asphyixiation, though the cord was not wrapped around his neck. We'll never know the true reason.

Anyway, on 5/5 each year I brace myself. This year, "it" hit me on the evening of 5/4. I was headed to a monthly Church potluck dinner. Had the baked casserole in my car, was starting to drive out of the neighborhood, and ended up turning around and going home. I just couldn't do it. Instead, I went outside and pulled weeds for an hour or so. Then poured a glass of wine and stayed quiet for the rest of the evening.

Today, I just laid in bed a little longer than normal. I just felt an incredible weight of sadness. I got an email from my sister-in-law & brother, telling me that they were thinking of me - and that made me cry. But in a good way.

I could not focus on anything. Finally took a shower, ate lunch, and decided to walk around a couple stores just to kill time. But while I was in the stores, I started feeling absolutely exhausted. So I turned around and went back home. I changed my Facebook status so that the world knew why I was so sad today, and promptly fell asleep for about an hour on the sofa.

Then a special friend, who lost a baby a year after me, called to see how I was doing (we talk once or twice a year - just as a reminder that "we're in this together"), and after the call I could feel the "gloom and doom" slowly slipping away. My pity party had ended.

I now have energy, hopefulness, and happiness. Another year has passed.

1 comment:

Kelly said...

I know I'm late with this comment, but wanted to say something anyway now that I've finally had a chance to catch up.

I didn't know Christopher's story, and I'm so sorry, Susan. What an incredible loss...

What a strong woman you are, and I'm proud you are my friend.