Surviving what should be ordinary events

There are events that you know you will attend one day.  And when you think of them, you foresee enjoying the experience, with loved ones surrounding you.  You don't think about how you will make it through.  It doesn't even come to mind to think about if you'll even be able to bear a minute of it.

Events such as barbecues, birthday parties, baby showers, weddings, meeting a new baby, and even just a gathering of friends.  It's the middle of July, and as summer always does, the occurrence of such events has been by the handful.  For more than a month's time, it seemed like every week was filled with such events.

As a grieving parent, there's a tough balance to find.  You want to be there for your family and friends, but a big part of you just wants to run away and hide.  Hide from the babies.  Hide from the blissful and innocent happiness.  Hide from what could have been but isn't.

After losing Preston, I had to adopt a new philosophy when it comes to such events.  At this point in my life, I don't know if it's a way of life that will stay with me forever, or if it will one day go away completely.  As with most things, my humble guess is that the answer lies somewhere in the middle.  What is this philosophy you ask? I've probably mentioned it but here it is:  Have the intention of attending, but allow yourself to leave at any point in time, even if that moment is when you are halfway to your destination.

I realize that it probably sounds rather selfish.  Thing is, I've had to make the decision to not care whether it does or not.  It's what I have to do.  It's part of my survival.  It's probably part of the survival of many grieving parents.  Sometimes, I just have to do what's right for me.

I have to say though, most of the time, I've done ok.  I haven't had to turn around when I was halfway there.  I think if anything, the worse I've done (and the worse we've done as a couple) is leaving early instead of staying through the end.  Instead of staying until 10:00, maybe we leave at 7:30 or 8:00.  Not too bad right?

The toughest though?  Sounds silly, but a baby shower at work, which was a really short baby shower.  I hadn't attended one since my own in 2013.  Baby showers are such happy occasions filled with the cutest things you can imagine and full of shrieks of happiness.  For most people, it's just one of those joyous events that you wouldn't' even blink about twice.  Normal.  It felt far from normal to me.  I smiled a lot, but the whole thing tugged at my heartstrings a little.  I survived, and perhaps my own pregnancy gave me strength to get through something so baby related.  It doesn't make it easy though, and it certainly doesn't make me feel like having a baby shower myself.  Anyway, I already had a baby shower for Preston, and you're just supposed to have one right?  I feel like I will be able to dodge the bullet.

The other tough ones, probably the most ordinary get-togethers.  The ones where there seems to be more kids running around than adults.  I try to not let these moments get to me, but sometimes I just find myself starring at the kids, longing for my own, wondering what he'd be doing.  And I probably look like a crazy person doing it.  Those thoughts can be haunting.  Especially hours later.

As for my proudest accomplishments this summer?  So far, it's probably holding a newborn and not breaking down and completing the quilt square to honor Preston.  Our close friends just had a baby about 6 weeks ago.  A second boy.  Beautiful little guy.  Quiet little guy.  Part of his personality reminds me of Preston.  My friend asked me if I wanted to hold him a month ago.  I'd thought long and hard about it since he was born, and I took the plunge.  I said yes, but urged my friend to stay close by, just in case I couldn't do it.  I held that baby for over an hour.  He slept the whole time but I did it, and some of my fears melted away.

Since finding out I was pregnant, the thought of "how am I even going to hold my own baby" crossed my mind.  It's not an easy task.  Those fears were quietened when I realized I could hold a baby.  A boy no less.  Maybe the biggest test will be to ask me if I can do it when the baby is 16 weeks old, or around 11 lbs.  That challenge might be bigger.  And maybe the problem is, I don't quite remember what it felt like, which is why it wasn't so hard?  I get frustrated with my memory for not remembering certain things.  I wish I could remember, in clear detail, those 16 weeks instead of being plagued by the vivid memories of losing him.  When it was already all over.

On happier note, I did complete the quilt square to honor Preston.  The Angel Eyes foundation will be putting together a quilt to hang in their office, and I feel so blessed that my little guy will be part of it.  I put so much heart and so many hours into it.  I struggled parting with it.  Thankfully, I have an incredible husband who blew up the picture I took below and had it framed.  Now, I have it forever...  and who knows, maybe when I'm not so sick and tired of seeing threads and needles, maybe I'll make another one.

For now though, I'm entirely satisfied with staring at my masterpiece, smiling as I remember my true masterpiece - Preston himself.