In Which I get Zen with The Shit

What can I say, you guys.  It's Monday.  Justice may have been done by getting Bin Laden (and I'm not so sure about that, anyway, given that I really don't feel much safer now that we're at an elevated threat level) but The Donald still refuses to do the Right thing and get rid of Star, so I'm still waiting for Celebrity Apprentice justice.  The other night I stayed up until 4:30 to watch the Kate become a princess, not because I care so much about them (though, really, I've fallen under their spell lately) but because of all the great views of central London.

The thing I want to share, though, is this amazing artist on etsy that a friend shared with me, The Midnight Orange.  She makes beautiful clay sculptures for mama's like me.  Like this necklace.  I got mine in the mail today.

I can't look at her shop for too long, though, because I start to cry.  Cuz she has stuff like this (called, appropriately, Empty But For Love):

So it's been over six months since we lost Baby T, and I've been grieving pretty hard lately.  I think part of it is that there was so much going on in the first few months after it happened, and I never had time to just grieve.  You deal with hospital crap, and recovery, and then we started working on getting pregnant again right away, so I was temping and reading Taking Charge of Your Fertility, and then I got pregnant in three cycles, and then I was freaking out about that baby, and then I lost that baby, and then there was more hospital crap, and then we went away, and now there's just...nothing.  The hospital bills have even slowed down now.  There's just an office that should be a nursery, and two drawers of gender-neutral baby clothes that I bought in a lot on ebay when I hit 18 weeks and thought I should start preparing.  No 3am feedings.  No gurgling baby snuggling next to me.  No crying.  No diapers (we had decided on cloth diapers - we're both cheap, and green!).  Just more of the same.

Mother's Day is coming up and the support group I go to is having a Mother's Day Tea on Saturday (which also, incidentally, happens to be my 35th birthday) for mama's of babies who aren't here anymore.  I waffle between really looking forward to it, and dreading it.  I haven't gone to the support group since I lost the second baby.  There's just too much sadness.  Too much heartache.  I hate it.  I want to be around happiness.

But sometimes, when you're sitting in shit, the best thing to do is quit looking around hoping that the shit turns into purple marshmallows, and just accept that you're sitting in shit, and in order to get out of the shit, you need to stand up and actually walk through the shit.  Thus, perhaps getting splashed by even more shit in the process, but eventually getting to the other side of the shit.  It doesn't work to pretend the shit is anything other than shit, which is what I was doing before.  Oh look!  I'll get pregnant right away!  It will all be ok!  A second baby will make it all better!  Nope, darlin', you're still stuck in shit.

So I'm getting zen with the shit, accepting the shit, not trying to deny the shit, and hopefully, by not trying to fight back against the shit, I will be able to flow through the shit, to the other side.

I just typed shit like sixteen times.  Whatever, I'm swimming in it, so I'm getting used to it.