The Things That Get To You

It’s weird, the things that get to you… especially when your heart is already fragile.

I only cried twice yesterday… once while reading a sympathy card and the poem enclosed with it, and then when I went to bed, when my hands automatically rested on my stomach.  I quickly pulled them away like I had burned myself – it’s empty!  Sometimes I think if I can only convince myself – if I wish it hard enough – Shiloh will still be in there.  Then I remember that I won’t be feeling those kicks.


This morning, I was emptying the trash from upstairs.  The basket in our bedroom doesn’t get filled very quickly, so when I emptied it’s contents, my heart lurched at the various items.  Silly, really… at the bottom were some granola bar wrappers, the ones I bought because my morning sickness and nausea wouldn’t allow me my daily smoothie or some of the other healthy things I was trying to eat.  It was one of the first compromises I made in my diet, and I started buying a few boxes a week.

There was a bag of Cape Cod BBQ chips, which I don’t usually buy because of my tendency to eat the whole bag… which is exactly what happened and I lamented the fact that it would probably cause me to gain ten pounds and I had so much more of my pregnancy to go.

Then there was the plastic bag from the hospital, the one they give you to hold your shoes, clothes, and other valuables while they do what they have to do.

And tissues, lots of tissues, for those tears.