I'm heading to the grocery store, so that I can start baking two casseroles.
We've had a bad year as far our friends and pregnancies go (this is related to the sentence above, I swear). We've had miscarriages, loss of a twin, stillbirths, and now, the latest and the saddest. Our friends have known for awhile that they are going to give birth to a baby sometime in the next few days, and that their baby won't live long.
Do you remember the fairytale you were told when you were younger? That being pregnant was easy, that childbirth was wonderful, and that those things were rare, and anyways, never happened to you, always to other people. Except we're older now, and every time someone tells the fairy tale, we know people who whisper otherwise. It isn't easy, isn't wonderful, isn't rare, and it does happen to you, and your friends.
Casseroles. It seems so inadequate, but I know it's hard to cook with a new baby around, and it's even harder to think when you're grieving. We don't know how long Baby H will live; it could be minutes, it could be weeks. I've never lost a baby, so I can't empathize, but I can sympathize. But how do you show it?
So, there it is. I'm heading to the grocery store, to make some casseroles. Because, really, what else can I do?
Non-Stop Swimming. Also Partying.
1 day ago