Welcome to the Blue Butterfly Blog

Thousands of families suffer in silence from the loss of a pregnancy or an infant. My struggle is just beginning. I carried twins to term knowing that only one would survive. This is the story of my journey through shock, devastation, grief, anger, and hopefully someday acceptance. I know that other families are desperate to know that they are not suffering alone. This is for them.

Monday, December 12, 2011

Can They Tell I've Been Crying?

Sunday nights are the worst.

I distract myself all weekend with errands, shopping, and usually eating, and then it all comes to a screeching halt on Sunday night. While Brad kills zombies on the PS3, I lay in bed and all the things I've been putting aside rush into my head. I have tried reading, watching TV, even yoga stretches to calm my nerves, but nothing has helped yet.

I cry myself to sleep and Sunday night sorrows bleed into Monday morning. It's not that I dread the workweek. I have a good job and I work with good people. My manager has been very supportive and has never asked me to justify a long doctor's appointment or a day off. But still I make the 40 minute commute through a fog of tears.

This happens every Monday.

I'm not the most prompt person in the world, so by the time I arrive at work, the mail clerk is usually on his way out the door. He is a friendly man whose wife recently delivered beautiful triplets. We exchange sympathetic smiles - I know that he is probably getting no sleep with his three new babies and he knows that I feel like a whale with these two babies inside, but I don't know how much he knows.

During our whole exchange, I wonder if he can tell I've cried the whole way in. If he can, he doesn't say a word.

As the week goes on, I have good days and bad days. Lately, the bad have been outweighing the good. I try to keep the positive thoughts top of mind, but I cannot fight the fact that every day that passes brings me one day closer to losing my Spyder. Every birth announcement at work, toy ad in the paper, even seeing Santa at the mall - happy, joyous things - reminds me of our impending loss.

So I cry. Unashamed, I let the tears roll down my cheeks. But then I worry - can the babies tell I am crying? Can they sense my emotions, hear my sobs, feel my sadness? And this helps me stop. My babies need to know how happy I am to have them, how filled with love I am. Then the joy ushers in the sorrow and the grave cycle begins again.

Can the babies tell that I've been crying? What about my colleagues or the other drivers on the road? Yes, they probably all know. But sometimes it's the only thing I know how to do.

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