Grief- Friend or Foe?

Grief--it's such a tricky devil.

It sneaks up from the  dark corners of an open room full of people who are laughing and enjoying each other's company. It creeps along the strong walls of a home full of love. It buries itself in the subconscious of a young mother and makes itself present whenever it damn well pleases.

I have tried to make friends with this character. I have allowed it to break down my walls and let the tears flood my face. I have welcomed its "needed" advancement in hopes that when it decides to fade into the background I will be left a stronger person for knowing this grief guy. After all, it's important to accept Grief, right?

There have been days where grief only makes a small supporting role, and then quickly disappears into the shadows from which it first appeared. It likes to show its ugly face at the most random, but appropriate of times.

The day the hospital bills came in the mail grief reared its ferocious snarl on my otherwise good day. I mean, I know that you don't actually pay for the baby itself, but come on, shouldn't there be some sort of price reduction when you leave the hospital without the baby?

A happy and fun trip to the zoo with my little girl and sister was a day to surely stuff the grief in a closet and enjoy the beauty of life..that is until I kept hearing the name "Wyatt" be called by the leader of a school group. Great. Welcome back, Grief. Every which way we turned that day there was a stroller to dodge or a baby to avoid. Sounds like fun, right? It was fun, for the simple fact that I have figured out how to put a leash on this Grief thing, sometimes, at least. We had a good day, despite the little boy at the bird exhibit that was wearing an airplane shirt and smiling ever so sweetly at his momma, and the hundreds of pairs of brothers and sisters present that day. *sigh*

Grief  seeks me out when I'm online trying to "keep up" with my friends via Facebook and Blogs. Oh how he loves to visit me when I'm browsing through the tons and tons of "new baby" and "pregnant lady" pictures on my news feed. He taps me on the shoulder and says, "Remember that? Yea, that should be you. ha!" He plays dirty. Grief allows jealousy to creep in and join the pity party as well. I hate feeling jealous. I hate cringing at the sight of beautiful babies and scoffing at the overjoyed expecting  or new momma. They didn't take my baby, now did they? However, I have no say on who is invited to my emotional parties anymore; it's a free for all.  It's not quite fair... I find myself saying that phrase a lot.

My new acquaintance seeks me out through my email, even. He comes in the form of Similac for Moms: Your Baby is 11 weeks old today! and Don't forget to update your BabiesRUs registry! He just doesn't know when to stop.

He has a very intriguing personality and loves to be present so that he can taunt me through my emotional restraints when strangers ask, "Is she your only child?" or " How many children do you have?" or " It's about time to have another one, eh?" Tried that. Thanks.

When I'm enjoying time with Lyla outside and I see that empty space beside her or her little hand waving freely in the open air, the little scoundrel (Grief) likes to hark back at me that her little brother will never fill that space and will never hold her hand. Thanks for that, Mr. Obvious.

When I see my husband spending time with his nephews or his dad I am once again visited by my new best friend (enemy). He continuously switches from ear to ear as he whispers the facts that Waylon will not ever be able to do any of those such things with Wyatt. Grief doesn't hear my heart as it cracks into a thousand pieces...again.

He thoroughly enjoys visiting me during my resting periods. As I float in the pool Grief likes to swirl around in the wind and slap my face...He's reminding me once again that I have too much time to do absolutely nothing. As I lay on the couch he mimics the sound of a newborn baby's cry and fills my head with thoughts such as "I shouldn't have time to be lazy, I have a newborn baby to take care of." or  the worst, yet most profound question, "Why Me?"

Mr. Grief makes his most common of appearances at night time, in our bedroom. He likes to make a loud commotion when everything else in the house is quite. He reminds us that there is no crying baby and no bottles to wash. He laughs as we look through the only pictures we will ever have of our little boy.

He rarely offers a tissue.