We endlessly swing back and forth, from grief over Margot to fighting for Kari's health, blown by the winds of bodily pain and baby reminders, neither one being easy, both frightening and unpredictable. It seems we oscillate between these two forces almost moment by moment, never letting one take too much precedence over the other, but never allowing us to fully engage with each emotion either. For when we're focused on getting better, on walking and hydrating and resting, Margot is there. And when we're remembering Margot, Kari's pain and bruises and immobility hangs thick in the air. This is our predicament, the reality of this new story we find ourselves living in.
On the one front, today was the kind of day we needed. We laughed more, smiled more, felt like ourselves more. We shared a meal with friends, wrestled and sang with Stella, spent time laughing with our families and went an entire day without the stay-in-your-bed nausea that has consumed most of our other days. We took long walks around the fourth floor of our building, stopping in a certain window to let the sun drench over us. We shared intimate cheek-to-cheek hugs and tender forehead kisses, moments nearly impossible to have with all of the tubes, pain and nausea that have dominated the past ten days. We spoke of hope and the future and began scratching the surface of what this new story might look like.
But I also lacked emotions today. My eyes were dry, my heart confused. I wanted to join Kari in tears when we spoke of what we were going to do with the tiny room we created for Margot in our bedroom closet. I wanted to cry when Stella innocently asked where Margot was. But there were no tears and few words, leaving my heart in a state of confusion. Where did the gratifying, therapeutic tears go? Why did these emotions, which were always on the edge of my heart and on the tip of my mind, suddenly seem distant and removed?
These are the thoughts and questions I have tonight. They stream back and forth tirelessly from my head to my heart and back again. I search for clues and look for meaning.
If I find solace in anything about today, it's this: whatever we're going through, whatever we're thinking, whatever emotion is dominant, whatever we may feel or not feel, however the day plays out...this is our grief. There are no easy answers, no wrong or right way to grieve, no expected formula. This grief is complicated and simple, creeps in slowly and harshly and manifests itself in many forms. I guess in these early days, I'm learning to embrace griefs tricky, soul soothing complexities, from one day to the next.