Today was a bad day. No one knows it but me; but, it was bad nonetheless. I feel like I should be â€œover itâ€ by now. We lost the last baby in March. Isnâ€™t nine months enough healing time that the unexpected cry of a newborn shouldnâ€™t bring me to tears? It does. Especially at work. If Iâ€™m going somewhere I know thereâ€™s going to be (or a high potential of there being) a baby, I can brace myself for it. When Iâ€™m not expecting it, like at a white collar job, it catches me off guard and shakes me. Badly. Internally, I get angry at the mother for bringing the baby to work. I know itâ€™s wrong and I brought my kid to work to show her off, but I just donâ€™t want to see it. I hate being ambushed by babies. My chest feels like itâ€™s going to cave in and my gut feels like I just took a canon ball. In most cases, the whole day is ruined. Iâ€™m resigned to mope around, while pretending not to mope. I do a pretty good job, I think. No one notices, which is just as well. If I hear â€œeverything happens for a reasonâ€ one more time, Iâ€™m likely to throw up in my mouth.
RIP, kiddo. Iâ€™ll see you in 60 years or so. Weâ€™ll hang out. Promise.