A year ago an ambulance took me to the ER, where I delivered a dead baby at 17 weeks 4 days, without anesthesia, after which I had two blood transfusions to make up for the heavy blood loss.
For some reason, I was impervious to grief and pain during the day. Maybe what happened last week gave me perspective. I knew it was ash Wednesday but I ignored it completely, just as I have been avoiding all religious ceremonies and traditions for almost a year, although I still had no meat today, go figure. In general, I was doing OK even after I got home.
And then I checked my email and there it was, a kind message from my mother, which opened the floodgates again.
In my last post, I complained about people diminishing my pain. Well, apparently, having my mother respect it and commemorate my baby's death is also not helpful, because I cried and cried and am still crying.
Or maybe my grief was just waiting for a good excuse to finally surface. Who knows? I will not see Dr. Funny until next week. I must remember to ask him what this all means.