Tagged with grief

Face it.

Face it.

I see the discarded pregnancy tests in the trash as I toss in a tampon wrapper. These unlikely plastic adversaries sit beside each other: one a symbol of hope, the other of failure. Immediately, I think, Ugh, I’ll take the trash out so I don’t have to look at those. Then, correcting myself, I think, … Continue reading

All of this means nothing.

All of this means nothing.

I’ve been playing one song so much that V has begun requesting it. “Mommy, wanna hear ‘Handbreaker’.” (The song is called “Dealbreaker.”) When I’m alone in my car, it’s the first place I go. I find the vein (turn it up), insert the blade (let the words remind me), and sigh with relief as the … Continue reading

Betrayed.

Betrayed.

The last time I bled, you were alive. When we got the news, my body, paralyzed by loss, stopped mid-cycle. When they took you away five days later, things continued where they’d left off, as though my body had simply pressed pause. Almost exactly a month later now, I bleed again. I felt the shock … Continue reading

Small Life, Slow Life, The Luxury of Grief.

Small Life, Slow Life, The Luxury of Grief.

Do you remember when you had the luxury of grief? You were allowed the space to be fully devastated. You could call into work, *cough cough* into the phone, tell your boss that no, you weren’t feeling better. You could use up your whole sick time you’d accrued in the fetal position, tangled in sheets, … Continue reading