Excuse me, but it has to be said...

Yesterday one of my best friends from high school slash college roommate stopped by the hotel to say hello. I have not seen her in years [well, she did visit at the hospital after Maycie was born but let's be honest...I was heavily medicated and don't remember a thing]. It was so good to see her and we talked like not even a second had passed since we had been together. She brought with her her adorable little boy who just tugged at my heartstrings. He, like little Maycie, was born with complicated health issues.

Our short conversation was mainly focused on our special little children. We talked about the hospital, the nurses, the NICU, and everything in between. And my favorite part? Somebody finally understood me and was comfortable holding a conversation with me about little Maycie.

The most common question I am asked is "How do you do it? How do you get through the day?" My friend said she gets the same question concerning her little boy and his serious health problems. And it was just so good to have someone understand what I meant when I said, "Well, it is what it is. You just deal."

I admit it. My pregnancy was hard. My delivery was hard. Losing Maycie was tremendously hard. Is hard. And just recently [as in this week] I have been able to make it through the day without crying. But there is still not a second that goes by in a day when I am not thinking about Maycie. I wake up in the morning and think...I should hear my baby crying.  I talk to a client at work and think...I should be at home with my baby. I drive in the car and think...I should have my baby in the backseat. It is never-ending. But...I just deal. I have to.

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Going back to work so close to Maycie's passing has been hard [but therapeutic at exactly the same time]. Mainly because the last time I was there, I was pregnant. And not many of my co-workers and regular guests are aware of Maycie's passing. So I get a lot of "How's the baby?" which, believe me, I prepared myself for. I even came up with a quick response I could pull out when needed. But the awkward stumbling for words after my "quick response" is still hard to get used to.

I understand the fact that people don't know what to say to me. Sometimes I bring up little Maycie in casual conversations [she's my little girl...I am allowed to talk about her] and my statement is followed by uncomfortable silence. I get it. I understand. I would be the same way if the situation was reversed. But please don't feel uncomfortable. Jake and I are trying to heal. And our healing process is unquestionably fueled by surrounding ourselves with co-workers, good friends, and family. If you're uncomfortable talking to us, we can tell. And we don't want you to be. So don't be. Understood?

I mean, we are still the same people. I know infant death is a hard thing for people to comprehend and be comfortable talking about. But Jake and I...well, we have been blessed with a greater understanding since Maycie passed. And we know we will have a chance to raise our little angel baby one day. And that knowledge, plus talking about my little Maycie, gets me through the day. Again, we are the same people - so treat us that way.

Moral of this long, jumbled, and brutally honest post, you ask? Here you go. Please don't feel uncomfortable talking to me. Ever. Loosing my baby is extremely hard to say the least. But...I am dealing.