Vacation – it’s a good thing.
We just came back from a much-needed long weekend in New York. We planned this trip right after we lost Ezra, needing something to look forward to. I’m so glad that we did.
I think that I underestimate sometimes how much familiar things are a trigger for me. It’s one of the hardest things about baby loss, I suspect. Every single one of my familiar places makes me think of the last time I was there pregnant. No matter what I do, I’m in the house where I should be folding tiny clothes. I walk the sidewalks where I should soon be pushing a stroller. It’s like there’s this ghost of myself who follows me around, and I can always, always see what I should be doing, in that alternate reality where the baby was developing just fine and we were as happy and oblivious as ever.
I was never pregnant in New York. We went last summer, just before we started trying to conceive, and so it fit, in a bookend-ish kind of way. We had a great time. I’ll update with some photos later. We saw an awesome show (a musical adaptation of Alison Bechdel’s Fun Home…. highly recommended!), we went to MOMA, we spent hours walking around in the sunshine and we ate far too much. I didn’t limit my intake of either coffee or wine, in what is likely to be the only period in two years or more where I’m neither trying to conceive nor pregnant. It was nice.
Now we’re home (and as always happens after a trip, my wife is perusing New York real estate) and we settle back into our lives. But the break – the break was vital. I’m likely to go back to work at the beginning of November (a post to come), we’re starting to look towards the future, and gradually, gradually, we’re getting used to this new path.
Although that doesn’t mean I have to like it.