I feel like the pieces of my life are still scattered around me. Today was the first day back to school for the boys, though it was far from normal.
I emailed the daycare director and Theo's teacher to make them aware, in case either boy said something in their classes. I hate that my first one-on-one interaction with Theo's teacher is this.
I dropped Quentin off this morning, and his teacher offered words of comfort, having experienced a similar loss herself, but it just made me leave the building in a flood of tears.
I was not prepared to begin lactating — no one at the hospital had warned me of the possibility. I think I had wondered briefly about it, but was a bit caught off guard when it actually happened. I don't need a constant reminder and am now frantically trying to suppress the milk production. Ibuprofen is supposed to do the trick, but I cannot take that as it sends my stomach into revolt for days.
I stopped by Whole Foods, looking for the No More Milk tea - of which they carry every other tea in the same line, except that. When I asked an employee about it, she said pointedly "I think we only carry teas that stimulate milk production." I could have punched her.
The active ingredient is sage, but I couldn't even find just a plain sage tea. Not feeling like driving to multiple stores looking for the tea, I placed an Amazon order with rushed delivery for tomorrow. Ice packs and hand expression in the meantime...
We had to go into the funeral home this morning to sign the death certificate. No parent should ever have to do that.
I had these plans to keep myself occupied this week and distract my mind by decluttering the house - something I'd planned to do in the upcoming months anyway. I also desperately want to change the room that was designated to be the nursery (currently office/guest room).
No matter what the future holds for us, I cannot look in that room every day the way that it is, so I want to change it as much as possible. After stops at Home Depot and IKEA, I came home and found myself completely drained. Decluttering will have to wait.
Hard for me also is realizing that the world is moving on. Everyone stopped to wrap their arms around us in our time of grief, but now they are continuing on with their lives while I am still in a world of pain. It is a little isolating right now, but I am hopeful that it will get a little better each day.
One hour at a time, one day at a time....