Monday, May 11, 2015

Mother's Day

I used to hate Mother's Day, mostly due to the terrible relationship I had with my own mother. After Hubbs and I got married, I hated Mother's Day because we were dealing with IF and were told we would never have kids. It was still just a sore subject for me. Last year, I had my first enjoyable Mother's Day. I was finally a mom and it was nice to celebrate. This year was by far the worst Mother's Day ever. Four days before, my son had been born. Two days before, my son had died. The next day, I'd be at the mortuary and cemetery planning his funeral. Hubbs and I got by with some extra cuddles from Ducky and a good cry with each other.

Today wasn't as terrible as I thought it was going to be. We went to Hubbs' work and picked out an absolutely perfect plot. His boss is pulling a few strings for us and we've really gotten a great spot. We met with the mortuary and they were wonderful, apparently they don't charge for infant funerals, and since they know Hubbs, are giving us the casket/vault combo at cost. The service is completely free and they are taking care of everything for us. We went to the monument company recommended by Hubbs' boss, and they're giving us a significant discount, which is great as well. Everyone involved has made planning this a little less painful by taking such good care of us. The funeral will be Friday and I'm hoping it will be short and sweet. Hubbs and I are really hoping to avoid anyone talking to us at all. I just don't want to hear cliches and things that are meant to be helpful but are really just awful. I know people mean well, but sometimes they say stupid things.

I came across these empathy cards on the interwebs, and two of them totally made me laugh out loud, which is impressive considering how ridiculously sad I am. (You can find them here)

Family is going to start trickling in and I'm kind of dreading it, all of the comments and questions. Since we were the only ones who actually got to meet our son, our grief feels private and personal. Having other people share in it when they didn't know him at all feels intrusive in a way. I'm sure it's because they love us and are sad for us, but they definitely can't grasp the depth of our despair. Even at the funeral home, they were talking about how few infant burials they even do and what a rare occasion it is.

I think the worst part is that my milk came in the day after he died. Yes, I'm recovering from surgery, and have a huge line of stitches and an impressive amount of swelling and bruising on my abdomen to remind me... but having leaky boobs is worse. It just reminds me that my baby is supposed to be here with me. I'm supposed to be holding, nurturing, feeding, and getting to know my son. It's just not in the cards for me. I could have tried to pump and donate my milk to a milk bank, but I think it would have been harder. I'm just hoping it dries up as soon as possible. It's hard to hug my daughter and snuggle her before her bedtime with engorged and extremely sore boobs.

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