Bracelets and Necklaces

I was sitting in class this morning when the two people next to me started talking about their young children.  They are both a few years older than me, and I was vaguely aware that they had little ones.  They began commiserating over how hard it was to go to school for 9 hours a day and then come home to a family.  They talked about how after the feeding and playing and putting baby to bed they had almost no time to do their schoolwork.

I wanted to be them.  I wanted this summer to be much harder than it is.  I wanted the quality of my work to suffer because I was up all night with a teething baby.  I have thrown myself into Columbia.  Before Julia died I would have hated every minute of this summer, but now I find it a comfort-as it fills my days and leaves me too exhausted to focus on my grief.  When the weekend rolls around I am easily overwhelmed with the amount of time on my hands.  I play catch up for the sadness that I pushed aside during the week.

We start each morning with Self-Awareness training, which centers around meditation.  This morning we were talking about listening, and the instructor began to talk about how a baby's first sound is the beating of the mother's heart.    I felt that rising panic in my chest and tears began to fill my eyes.  I was in a silent room with 125 other people, so there was no escaping this situation without making a scene.  I closed my eyes and willed myself not to listen to her voice.

Sometimes I struggle with the fact that the majority of the people in my program have no idea I am a mom.  I wear my bracelet everyday, and just hope someone will spot the large "J" charm and ask about it.  A friend of mine who lost her son wears his initial on a chain around her neck.  I wear the heart that they gave us in the hospital around mine, as does Josh.  But no one knows what they mean except close friends.  I think I am going to buy a charm to add to the heart around my neck.  It frustrates me to no end that I sit here and debate these decisions for days in my head.   If Julia were here, no one, including me, would think twice about me wearing her initial around my neck.  

It's been 6 months and 6 days since she died, and sometimes I still can't believe she's gone.