On Sunday Spring came by for a visit (didn't stay long, its freezing and snowing and sleeting now). The whole neighborhood opened its doors and crept toward the sidewalks. It was lovely. I was itchy. Not the scratchy kind, more like something was itching my brain. I got uncomfortable. Something was working on me, my mood was going downhill, even as I took my son out for his inaugural walk down the street. I knew those feelings meant that, along with Spring, the grief-bitch had swung by for a visit. Adam was born in January of 2006, and I remember when Spring first sprung (sprang?) that year. It was such a relief. Such a dark weight lifted off of me. Healing was beginning. That's what I imagine brought up some grief for me on Sunday. I felt terrible having bad feelings on such a wonderful day, but I had to tell my husband about it; my ship was sinking. Then I called my friend D, who is, unfortunately, familiar with the grief-bitch too. She understands that sad just sometimes descends for no apparent reason.
I felt better by bedtime, and didn't have the grief-hangover the next day. Tuesday I had another "Adam Day" of a different kind. At my mom's group a new woman came with a 4 week old baby. Her first baby had died of SIDS* in April of last year (yes, she got pg two weeks after her daughter died.) We were instantly bonded. She got to say her baby's name (Abby) and I got to say Adam's name. We laughed together at the insane but well meaning things that people say, discussed how we deal with the "Is this your first baby?" question. Sounds awful to say, but I left feeling wonderful, and I could tell she was glad of the conversation too.
* To pregnant readers who are now having heart palpitations, there were extenuating circumstances, this was not garden-variety SIDS.
