Emotional 911

I know, I know....where the heck have I been? Well, I have had a pretty tough week. I never knew that not dealing with something is a hell of a lot harder than just dealing with it. I have a tendency when bad things happen to me to move on from it pretty quickly. I hate dwelling and have always considered myself a mentally strong person for the most part. However, somewhere between grieving and dealing I meet in the middle eventually I get sad. Very sad. But not even sad enough to tell anyone, because by telling someone I am admitting defeat over being strong. After I miscarried I called my therapist, not for me but for work as she has done some side stuff for the Agency. During our conversation she asked how I was and I told her my tale of woe. Even before I could answer her on how I was doing she immediately interjected "You're doing wonderfully, I am sure" and then proceeded to schedule an appointment with me for two weeks later. I wasn't looking forward to going, actually I dreaded it to be honest....this lady is good, and at times too good. But I went, held back all the tears I could and tried to begin to make sense of this. I don't think I could adequately described to anyone the emotions I am feeling, not because I don't have the words to use but more because I don't give you the knowledge to understand, so it's not really your fault. Giving all of you this knowledge would be like opening Pandara's Box and that is a risk I don't think I can take right now. As my therapist knew she would be needing to see me, so did one of my dearest friends, Heather. She booked her flight within a week of my miscarriage and flew herself and her wee-one here to Albany. That is love folks, to leave the warm warm south and come here to predictably cold Albany. What is even more of a testament of love is knowing when your friend is in need and coming to her rescue. She was very concerned though that the wee-one would make it harder for me, but really it has been great to have him here. I think of the extreme lost that she went through by loosing her first born son and I look at this little one of hers with such love. And I tell myself, if she can get through that and find the courage to move one, I can do the same. It's not that I am saying I can't move on with my life, but rather to move on with my life with the plans of trying for another pregnancy. That is the hard part because the thought of having to go through this again terrifies me the most.