Crash And Burn

Today I crashed hard. There was no particular trigger. Perhaps it was because today is the 24th of June, which marks two months since Sybella's birth. Maybe it was because I spent the day at home, isolated with no distractions. Maybe starting to write this blog has stirred up my grief all over again. I dont know.
I felt despondent and muted, like everything was happening around me, not to me. I lacked motivation and the thought of folding laundry and making dinner was met with a sigh and eye roll.
Today is the worst I have felt since the initial raw grief passed. I have tried to stay strong and enthusiastic for Jack so far, but today saw me sad and blank. I didnt even try to spark up for him. He doesnt mind. He is luckily a child who doesnt require constant entertainment and is quite able to sit and just "be," a rarity amongst many children these days. I feel constantly on the verge of tears, but havent cried yet.
I went to the doctor about flashing lights in my peripheral vision today. I havent seen this particular doctor since I was 26 weeks pregnant and had gastroenteritis. She is a young, enthusiastic doctor who is empathetic and kind. She remembered me, and asked "so, are you still 42 weeks pregnant?" as it must have said on her computer screen. It sounds like a flippant remark, but it was said with kindness and a smile. For all she knew, the baby was at home with someone else. I told her the story of Sybella's stillbirth, and the entire time, this doctor held my hand and listened with compassion. Perhaps it was telling the story again out loud provoked some deep emotions.
Deb de Wilde, a miraculous social worker who is famous and experienced in the world of bereaved parents called me today to see how I was going. She runs a group for bereaved parents every month. This month I didnt attend because Jack had a high temperature and bad cough, and so she rang to see how I was travelling, given my absence. This is the kind of woman she is...she must meet hundreds of bereaved mothers a week, and yet she remembers every single one by name. And their details: she asked me how I was feeling about considering a subsequent pregnancy and asked if I was worred because of the length of time it took to conceive Sybella. I am going to discuss considering a third pregnancy later in the blog and my feelings regarding this, but my answer to Deb was yes, I was worried. The icing on the cake, after everything we have endured so far, is to experience fertility problems again. But in that respect, only time will tell. And Deb has assured me that her and my new OBGYN (who I will also discuss later) will work as hard as possible to get us pregnant within the shortest time frame possible, when the time comes for us to be emotionally ready to try again. Perhaps relaying all my fears out loud to Deb contributed to my mood, I'm not sure. Perhaps admitting the possibilty of enduring another 18 months of failed efforts to conceive sent me into a complete slump. I dont know why, because we are not even close to considering another pregnancy at the moment.
Maybe it was the weather, not sunny, not rainy, just grey and benign. Just like my mood. Who knows?
I do know, that although I miss Sybella and think about her every single day, today was a day where I really missed her and felt her absence palpably. Today I yearned for her, to touch her skin, hear her laugh and smell her milky baby smell. It doesnt matter, though, that the intensity of my grief differs from day to day. She is always my first thought in the morning, and my last thought at night.