Perhaps... The CRAZY Me...

I remember those early days-
Though perhaps they weren't so early-
The days I went crazy-
Or at least I thought I was...

I remember shopping for a new jacket. I hadn't yet lost all of my pregnancy weight and needed something bigger. I was nursing, but at the time had a few hours between feedings so was able to escape to the mall.

It was so odd. Going out alone. Without my son. I remember finding a jacket and bringing it to the nice unsuspecting cashier. I remember making small talk with her.
"I needed to buy a new jacket because I had just had twins a few months ago six pounds and six pounds eleven ounces... and the weight wasn't coming off as quickly as I'd hoped."
"Oh how wonderful, what did you have?"
"I had two boys. But one DIED!"

I remember the look on her face.
She needed to escape.
She was at a loss for words.
And yet I left her in her discomfort.
I didn't break the silence.
It felt oddly comforting to share my sorrow with this complete unknowing stranger.

She said how sorry she was. I thanked her and took my purchase and went to my car.

I remember sitting in my car feeling horrible. I don't know why I did that. I don't know why I had to make that poor woman feel so badly albeit just for a moment- but I did. I should have gone in- apologized... but I didn't. I was crazy and I knew it.

The sad thing was, I did it again, and again.

Returning shower gifts-
I couldn't wait for them to ask me why I was returning something.
So I could tell them-
See that look on their face-
Shock-
Horror-
MY BABY DIED!

And again after I would feel so badly. I knew something was wrong with me. This couldn't be normal- and I knew that I couldn't keep doing this. It wasn't right. It wasn't ME!

I saw a counselor.

I told her my story.
I told her how I was going 'crazy'-
That I kept imposing my pain on others-
That it felt good to see them squirm, search for the right thing- anything- to say- to get out of that uncomfortable moment I had drawn them into.

Telling my story I could see their faces- how they wanted to run- get out of it- get away from me and the moment I had put them in- but they couldn't.

She gave me some advice that I still share. It made sense to me.

She said that having a baby was a lot of work. Your body goes through changes- Your hormones go through changes- You give up your body- You share it. It's work- It's tough.

She said that though people don't say it, they know that you 'did that'- that you went through a lot to get to that moment. To have that little baby you push in the stroller. While they don't always say it, seeing you as 'a mom'- well... they know.

Perhaps that is where you are stuck. Perhaps you went through all this work, carrying two, loving two and perhaps you want the world to see it. People see you as a new mom but they don't see the true picture- the real picture- the picture that YOU see. Perhaps that is why you feel the need to tell them.

Perhaps she was right.

I think that she was right.

That was the last time I saw her, but she taught me something about myself. Something that I needed to understand- that I needed to hear from someone else. A stranger. Her.

What I had done was WORK- Yes it was physical- but more importantly what I went through emotionally was even more WORK- To hear her say that- Her acknowledgement- Her words, in the way she did- That was enough.

Perhaps I didn't need to tell everyone.
At least not in the shocking way I was.

Perhaps I could share him differently.
Perhaps I could let them off the hook.
Rescue them from me.
Perhaps I learned something from that counselor.
Perhaps.

That session was worth every penny. It saved many people from the 'crazy' me. It saved ME from the crazy ME.

Perhaps you have had moments?
Moments of crazy too?
Perhaps?