November

It’s November. I’ve been dreading this month all year…the month our precious Sayre Lee died. I’m not going to go back into the story, my heart can’t take it right now, but I wrote an entire series of posts about it if you want to read what happened. November 27t is now looming in first of my eyes and I feel like the Grinch perched high above Whoville asking myself how I can keep Thanksgiving from coming.

The first day of November, I woke up super early from a fitful night’s sleep. I read on my phone until my actual time to wake up arrived…but I couldn’t bring myself to put my feet on the floor. Because putting my feet on the floor and getting out of bed would mean it was actually November. And I couldn’t deal with that. But I had to go to school, so up I got. I felt funky and not fully there as I put on my makeup and listened to my true crime podcast. Once I got to my car for the short commute to work, I lost it. I screamed and beat my steering wheel, pinching my arms to make sure I was real and here. I needed to be present in my own body, you can’t teach without being present. I called out for my babies, hoping they could hear me since it was the day of the dead. A day they should’ve been able to hear me.

Halloween has always been my favorite holiday. I love dressing up, pumpkins, the spooky vibe, and the fun atmosphere. And this year was no exception. I dressed as a witch and went to school to teach and had a wonderful time. But, as the sun set that night, I sat on the couch in my pajamas with my freshly washed face and felt a sense of dread. My witch’s hat and cloak were packed away in my closet until next year and I knew what the next day would bring. I felt like one of the spirits of the dead who had had their time with the living and knows it’s almost time to go back to the and of the dead. That’s how November feels to me, like the land of the dead. I don’t feel connected to anyone, it’s like there’s a glass wall between me and the rest of the world.

I know I have to go through November 27th empty. I was supposed to be very pregnant with Aurora by then. But she’s dead too. So now I’m empty because I didn’t get pregnant again this month and I have to face one of the worst days of my life feeling like a defective Death touched person. And I know I’m not defective, I know conceiving takes time after loss most times. I get all of that. But the irrational part of myself, my heart, yells louder than my mind so I hear it the most. I hear it yelling that I somehow killed Sayre, that my babies dying were karma for something I’ve done, that I’m not a real woman. This is what grief and loss does to you, it scrapes away what you know to be true and replaces it with doubt and self loathing.

People keep asking how I’m doing and to let them know if I need anything. That’s very sweet, but here’s the thing: I’m so deep in my depression and my own head that I can’t reach it to you. I feel like the sad miscarriage girl who bothers everyone with her feelings. What do I need? Someone to keep me company at home while my husband is at work, a break from school on the anniversary of Sayre’s death, and for everyone to understand that every day is a challenge for me right now. I don’t want to go anywhere after school, I’m exhausted and worn out from a day of having to be upbeat and on. But I’d love to have someone come to me and keep me or of my head. That’s what I can manage right now. So please don’t tell me to let you know if I need anything, because I can’t articulate that need right now. I need my friends and loved ones to be available and to reach out to me.

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