It was nice to be with people who understand. It is so hard to be pregnant, with everyone expecting me to be so happy, while I am grieving. This baby is wanted and loved, but it is also growing with a depth of understanding about life and and loss. I just don't have the same range of emotions that I used to possess. It's like I'm living an octave or two lower than before.
One thing that has been hard about being obviously pregnant is that it is hard to meet people. They always ask: is it your first, how old are your other kids? I'm like a walking conversation piece. People walk innocently into the mine field with their small talk.
The one take-away that stuck with me at the moment from grief group is:
It doesn't get better with time. There is just more time, more time between the intense grief.
So, seventeen years later a year may go by without feeling the incapacitating, overwhelming grief, but it can hit just as strong as ever.
I can see even now, there are little gaps in between the sadness, and bigger gaps between the overwhelming grief. I am able to look at pictures of Lev and see the love with the loss where before it was just loss. I will try to appreciate those gaps, guilt free. But the grief is just as strong, only less constant.
I don't want to lose the grief, for fear of losing connection with Lev. I sometimes wonder why I am grieving, sure he will come back at any moment. I have hope he will return, and it keeps me going. I have hope this baby will be okay, and that I will be able to keep her alive for the rest of my life. There are no guarantees, and that frightens me. I want a guarantee. I have suffered enough and I can't take any more, yet I fully understand that life has risks. I just hope this baby makes it, and that Jaal is okay, and that Tony and I continue to find a way to make it through the days and seasons ahead.
Rebecca
