Musings of my first week back to work…

Monday, January 11

I go back to work tomorrow. I don’t want to. I’m not ready, but I’m afraid I’ll never be ready. I’m afraid that when I go back everything will be the same. I’m afraid that when I go back nothing will be the same. I’m afraid I won’t have the same enthusiasm I normally have while teaching. I’m afraid of the questions I’ll have to answer. I’m afraid of the questions that won’t be asked.

I mean, I know teaching is a whole lot of acting anyway, and you always have to pretend things are great even when they’re not, but I’m just not sure I’ll have the energy to do it this time. The kids don’t know, and they shouldn’t know. The oldest students I have are 14. I don’t think you can understand the complexity of a miscarriage that young, nor should you be able to. You should still think the world is a wonderful place full of beautiful opportunities. You should think the worst thing that’s ever going to happen to you is your friend getting mad at you or getting a bad grade on a test. You’re still a kid, and life shouldn’t be that hard when you’re a kid.

Plus, there’s Vincent. If there is a silver lining to this whole situation, it’s that I’ve had lots of time to spend with him. He’s been the one thing that constantly puts a smile on my face and allows me to remember that miracles do happen – because looking at his face, I see my biggest one. But I’ll go back to school, he’ll go back to the babysitter, and I have drama club rehearsals and children’s choir practices which will keep me at school later which all means less time spent with him.

I know it’ll be fine, but I’m just not ready. I’m not ready to be back in normal life. I don’t want to be ready for normal life. I just want my baby back.

Tuesday, January 12

Well, I did it. I survived a day back at school and Vinny back at the sitter’s. All I have to do is survive tonight with Nick back at work, and I’ll have done everything “normal” for at least one day. That’s a start right? It’s easy to get back in the swing of teaching when you have to. I mean, I don’t have the type of job where I can half ass a day at work. I’m a teacher. Today I saw 100 kids that needed me to be “on” for them. 100 kids that didn’t know the hellish week I went through. 100 kids who wanted to enjoy music. And I hope I was able to do that for them.

I got a lot of hugs from the staff today, which was actually nice and very welcome. I got hugs from the students, but they just said they missed me…which was also nice and welcome. For a few moments, sometimes things felt almost ok. Which is a good, but strange feeling because part of me feels like things will never be ok again. They’ll go back to normal, but they won’t, and can’t ever be “ok”.

Wednesday, January 13

I work at the greatest place ever. My coworkers have been so caring towards me – it’s amazing. I’m truly blessed.

I guess that’s what you’re supposed to take out of every tragedy – the outpouring of love from family and friends. And I’ve been richly blessed with amazing family and friends who have gone above and beyond this past week and a half.

Maybe things will actually, eventually, be ok. Maybe I just have to live with the comfort that I have an angel watching over me now. Maybe I can continue to “fake it til I make it” and I’ll eventually feel better.

Thursday, January 14, 2016

It’s still hard. I don’t know when or if it’s supposed to get easier, but it’s still hard. Sure, I’m not crying all of the time, but that doesn’t mean it’s not on my mind. It’s just really, really hard.

Friday, January 15, 2016

Well, I survived my first whole week back at work. Again, I think it’s a blessing to have the job I do because it’s made it hard for me to dwell on the negative. Every day gets a little easier to get through. Z and Vinny are my loves, my happiness, and my rays of sunshine. Being with them has made this experience easier to handle because they truly bring me joy with everything they do. Z understands as much as an 8 year old can understand about miscarriage, but he’s caring, empathetic, and funny. And he never expects me to always be happy. He hugs me when I’m crying and laughs with me when I’m happy. Vincent doesn’t know a thing that’s going on, but he’s the reason I get out of bed every morning. If I didn’t have him, I’d be lost. I just love him so much.

I still don’t get it. It’s still so hard, but I’m doing my best…

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