Why is it that just when you think you have your life neatly organized and figured out, that God or fate or karma or whatever decides it’s time to throw a monkeywrench in it?

Looking back I can honestly say the six months following Michael’s death were crap. Total crap. I was miserable, my husband was mostly miserable. I was floundering, emotionally. Because there’s no guidebook, road map, brochure, or even sucky GPS directions for how to navigate the days of grief. The days leading up to Thanksgiving were the breaking point, but then things began turning around. I’m still, achingly, not pregnant, and still, heartbreakingly, not a mother… But over this last month I finally started having a handle on life. I got brave and took on new projects, I threw myself hard into the creative side of my life, and it tided me over through the awkward interactions and the daily difficulty of Life Without Michael.

In short, life began to make sense again.

Then today, ugh, today. Someone I know let slip that they were pregnant.

And oh my. Talk about feeling completely blindsided, like I’ve been kicked in the gut when I’m down… I was completely and totally unprepared for the vicious onslaught of emotions. Feelings I thought I had finally managed to file away in their proper spot, thoughts and reactions I had convinced myself were safely sealed away in their airtight Tupperware — all. came. bursting. to. the. surface.

I’m sure I turned white as a sheet. I could hear my heartbeat in my ears and see spots in front of my eyes and those are physiological things that never happen to me unless I’ve been physically stressing myself by running flat out after a loose cow or something. WTF?

It’s not like I haven’t been around pregnant women before. It’s not like I haven’t been around babies since Michael’s death. I’m okay. Those things don’t hurt anymore. Not like this. I just can’t figure out what the trigger is this time…? Why was this casual information so much harder to swallow?

It was a challenge to keep my cool and not be awkward, but I did it. I think I navigated the questions about whether I had kids or had been pregnant before with tact. Maybe not finesse, but tact. And for that I’m proud.

But afterwards I admit I bawled.
I sniffled through evening chores.
I crawled into bed and slept for an hour.
Then I got up and bawled some more.

The only thing I can think is that at least I’m getting it all out of my system.

But — what the Hell, God?!?!

Another friend of mine put it best, I think: “Sometimes figuring out grief is like a drunk blind man leading another drunk through a maze.”

4 thoughts on “Blindsided

  1. Welcome to the party, I guess.
    You’re still great. This grief thing just picks its times to win without consulting us. It’s not a fair fight.

    When it happens right around six months, I think it tends to be worse because we feel like we’re ‘getting better,’ because you know, we’re doing better. Then it happens, and it feels like it’s never going to end.

    I won’t say ‘stay strong,’ because none of us are really that strong. But keep on keeping on. You’ve got scores of us here for you whenever you need it. We’ll be praying!

    I was going to reply to the other entry: If you ever want a proofreader, I love papers. I really love writing and reading. 🙂

    1. Boy, it definitely is NOT a fair fight! Lol. There’s a lot of truth in the hard parts at this time. This little incident made me feel so backward. 😛

      And thanks for the offer! I may take you up on that. 🙂


  2. Blindsided. Good description. A friend of mine thought she was fine after three years then was blind sided by someone playing a piano. She dissolved into tears. You have a unique ability to analyze your feelings and verbalize them, allowing others to relate. Thanks for sharing that very painful moment.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s