I have actually been feeling pretty well the last couple of weeks. I would even go so far to say that I felt a bit like my old self, but that's not true. My old self is gone. Not that I don't still enjoy some of the same things, I just know that I will never look at life post-Isaiah the same. Part of that just stinks. I want to be naively happy again, but the larger part of me is grateful. I appreciate things much more deeply than I did before. I know what it is to feel indescribable pain and survive...that's even a little empowering. And Matt and I have grown so much closer to each other and to God. That piece of this whole mess is just phenomenal. But for the last couple of the weeks, the world hasn't felt as heavy.
That was until today. This morning I started going about my day like normal. As I sat down at my desk to prepare for a meeting, I looked at the calendar...August 2nd. Exactly 7 months since my life changed forever. I remember preparing for this same meeting that fateful day...not knowing that my precious child float lifelessly in my womb. This moment struck me as terribly odd...I didn't' break down in tears or anything (which is a huge feat for me!), but it just felt weird.
Luckily the morning was busy enough that I had to put these weird feelings aside and continue on my day. That was until I was sitting in another meeting later today. At around 11:15, I was struck by the memory that this was close to the exact time that I received that devastating news. While I sat in that meeting, I relived the most painful moments of my life. I vividly remember the look on the ultrasound technicians face as she threw down the wand and ran out of the room. I remember those agonizing minutes Matt and I sat waiting and wondering what was going on. I remember the frenzied tone of the technician's voice as she came back in to tell us the doctor would be in in just a moment and refused to tell us what was going on. What I can't remember is the exact moment I found out Isaiah's heart had stopped. I remember the screaming moments after we found out. I remember the doctor explaining what we would have to do next, but I can't remember the exact moment she told us. I suppose that's a gift. Who in their right mind would want to remember that, but it strikes me as so odd that I can't remember the most pivotal moment in my life.
The moment passed...again with no tears thankfully and I have been able to go about the rest of my day. I suppose that's life post-tragedy. You have to pick up the pieces and go on. You have to do "normal life." You still have really good days, but at a moments notice, something drags you back to that awful place...those awful memories. Thankfully, you also develop the strength to keep going despite these moments.