It’s February.
Raya’s due date month.
Except she won’t be arriving this month.
She already made her arrival and very swift exit in October.
Four months before her due date, to be exact.
I woke up this morning and looked in the mirror just to confirm that this isn’t all just some crazy pregnancy dream.
It’s not; it’s our actual life.
But as I made my daily trip to get coffee (fine, AND TEA. THAT’S RIGHT – I SPEND $8.50 A DAY ON BEVERAGES THAT ARE GONE BEFORE 9AM) it hit me harder than the realization of her being gone.
It sucks.
It really sucks.
But there are people that woke up today without their 28-year-old daughter.
There are people who have to watch as their best friend succumbs to the depths of cancer.
There are people who have to make the decision to put their pet down or have lost their job or don’t know if they’re going to make rent this month.
There are people that are dealing with everything Gregg and I have had to deal with regarding pregnancy, but without health insurance.
There are people that are dealing with any combination of the above, but without a supportive family.
Or without anyone.
Without friends that send flowers or clients that send gift cards.
Without a warm bed to be sad in or money to buy themselves a tea because it’s the one thing that gets them through the day.
And the more I started to think about the various unfortunate incidents people find themselves in, the more I realized how EXHAUSTED I was from wallowing in my own sadness and grief.
And I came to the notion that I couldn’t sit here and write another post about how hard it is to get up in the morning and see a pregnancy announcement, or how difficult it is to find forgotten baby items when I’m cleaning.
Because the more I sit around feeling sad, the sadder I get (it’s an incredibly inefficient process).
And there are people in this world that need positivity right now.
That need the smallest glimmer of hope that the worst thing that has ever happened to them is survivable.
That there will be a day when they wake up and get out of bed and not spend hours fighting their way out from under blankets of tears.
That while they may not ever understand why they were put in their situation, they will wake up one day and things will get easier.
Not much, and not right away.
But they have to know that they will survive.
I had my time to grieve and wonder what that would be like.
And while I am certainly not done grieving, and am beyond dreading Raya’s due date and will probably spend that day on the couch with my dog and no access to anything other than wine and Reba reruns – it’s my turn to be a source of positivity to others.
To be proof of asking for help.
Of finding reason to push through.
To be proof of survival.
