40th Day.

A couple weeks ago I spilled a rum and coke on my keyboard, and since then I have fought the urge to type anything. I have had a million times where I have wanted to sit down and say things, just get them out, but now, now that I have taken my nice quiet keyboard and replaced it with a dusty old clacker from the garage... Now I feel overwhelmed.

Today is the 40th day. I am a Tlingit Indian, and Tlingits have a tradition called the 40-day party. It is a chance to honor the deceased, and to help send them off, and to help with the grieving process. On the 40th day we honor those who have passed by burning a plate of food for them... usually their favorite.

Well, Rhys died with nothing eaten but breast milk... and now we are in low supply of that. Besides, I don't think that would burn so well. Instead we will be burning things I craved during pregnancy. My mom is making a pot roast, we will be having tacos.

Some moments I feel so despondent, like the world will never be ok again. Other times I feel so numb, and empty, and listless. Mostly, I just feel sad. I feel like I lost something, and no amount of searching will result in it being found, but I just can't stop looking anyway.

I have been back at work a bit. It is a lot harder than I want it to be. My branch chief had a baby two months before me. We were pregnant at the same time. I went in to let her know that I was trying to come back, and plastered all over her office are pictures of her precious little boy, those big round cheeks, and that sweet little mouth. It hurts me in my heart to see him. I want to bury my nose in the neck of my little boy, smell his baby scent, and feel the soft tickle of his fluffy hair on my cheek. I want to feel his little fingers wrap around one of mine, and rub my thumb on his silky little feet as he nurses. I want to not cry every time I walk into her office, because all I can think of are these things.

Yesterday was really rough. There is a gentleman that walks through the office and jokes with everyone, he is from another shop, so he doesn't know the intimate goings on, and I guess he wasn't given the "Watch out for Prescott, her baby died" speech that everyone else was given. He walked in yesterday and saw me, back from my extended maternity leave, and goes "Hey, where are all your baby pictures? I want to see that baby!" I started crying immediately... I couldn't help it.
"He died,." I said. I want to see that baby, too, but I can't anymore. Not ever again.

It's strange. I have an office full of people who are warm and friendly and eager to share stories and joke. I know my chain of command spoke with them, let them know that I don't want to talk about it, and they are being so respectful. I know they must be uncomfortable, or unsure of how to be, but it isn't like it used to be. I used to walk in and be greeted warmly... now people don't even aknowledge me. I try to resume business as usual, to chirp out a happy greeting, and chat normally, but I am largely ignored. I know they don't mean to be that way, but sometimes it makes me feel like maybe I am just a ghost floating unnoticed through the office. Maybe in a way, I am the one who died.

I know this post has been long, disjointed and a little bit random. I apologize for that. I am just letting emotions out in a way other than crying. Maybe I will be able to do more later... though I make no promises. I am not loving typing on such a loud key board.