Sometimes I wonder if we overdramatize a situation before it even happens. I’ve been told by a few people that going back to work could/would be hard. Did that set the tone for how I really felt about going back to work? Is it possible go back to work and it actually be okay? Does going back to work have to be a hard journey?
Today was my first official day back at work, and I gotta say, it went better than what I expected. I didn’t really assist, I trained the student and did some ordering. And I only had one interaction with a patient that knew me.
I had a lot of anxiety about going back to work. I’m positive I stressed about it for a good solid 2 weeks. And the panic attacks joined a few days before I began back at work. I asked my boss prior to rejoining the office that he please ask the staff to not question me about Logan’s passing or my journey through all this. Let me be the one to decide when I’m ready to openly talk about it, on my terms. Being the coolest boss that he is, of course he obliged.
Today started off funky, most likely due to the anticipation I had built up. I sat at the breakfast table talking with my husband about our counseling session we had this morning. I wasn’t thinking about anything in particular, but I just had an overwhelming sense to cry. I didn’t know why I felt the need to cry, I just did. Just admitting to my husband that I felt like crying brought wetness to my eyes. I figured, this was just the beginning to what had to be a long emotional day. But to my surprise, that didn’t happen.
I often think I don’t give myself enough credit. I think this situation is no different. Today was a huge day. The last time I was at work, Logan was still with me; in my belly. How odd it would be to go back to a place Logan was, without him. He was so much apart of my everyday routine, before he even arrived in this world. I carried him with me everything; in a sense it feels like he was already built into my routine. Even the way I stand at work sometimes feels odd, because I don’t remember standing without the weight of pregnancy wearing on my body. I don’t remember sitting in an assistants chair without feeling Logan constantly kicking me. It’s almost as if, I’m re-learning life. But yet it doesn’t. My instinct to do my job is still there, kind of like riding a bike. You never really forget how to ride a bike, but it takes some getting used to because your body changes over time.
In our office we have a kitchen where we keep all our things. I frequent this room a lot during the day simply because a lot of what I need is in this room. In a basket next to the fridge, standing erect is Logan’s funeral program. On the front of Logan’s funeral program is a big picture of his sweet baby face. The first time I saw it, it caught be off guard. Not because of the picture itself; I have pictures of Logan all around my house. But because I didn’t expect to see it there. I wasn’t sure how I felt about it at first. It seemed like every time I walked into the kitchen, his death was shoved in my face. Like it was mocking me, “Oh you thought you could get away from this, too bad sucka” kinda of feeling. I don’t know if they put his program there so that he could apart of the office, or if it was possibly meant to be a means of comfort for me; I do not know their reasoning behind it. But what I do know, is that I get to see my baby at work now. I worry that I’ll forget Logan as I get back into my daily routine of life. And right now, as long as that funeral program is standing there, I get to be reminded of the beautiful baby I created and loved everyday of his life. Logan has grounded me in life in so many ways (different blog, different time), but I get to look at his picture at work and be reminded to stand firm in what he’s taught me so far.
Having not really seen any patients today, didn’t leave much room for questions to be asked. I think that might partially be why the day went so well. But I can’t be sure of that until it happens. Talking with people who have been apart of this journey isn’t necessarily easy, but it’s easier than talking to someone who knows nothing. The ease of the conversation depends on the person and the depth of the walk they’ve taken on this journey with me. But to have this conversation with someone who doesn’t know, can be disarming. Literally quicksand waiting to drag you down to the next rabbit hole. Who knows, maybe I’ll get an upgraded rabbit hole. “Hi miss, to reward you for your frequent visits, we’ve decided to upgrade you to the rabbit’s den.” The emotions a stranger or even a person you know, goes through when they find out your story, kind of sends you back through all the emotions you went through. The human mind is a curious entity. We can’t just learn that a baby died without knowing how this happened, why the Dr’s couldn’t fix him, why we chose the path we did, and how on earth are we handling things, etc, etc. I’m sure I’m the exact same way. Or at least I was. Now, I pause before I start to ask too many questions. Most of the time, I honestly just don’t care to ask those questions. I don’t mean that to be heinous, it’s just somethings are best left alone. My curious mind, is most likely none of my business.
The unfortunate thing with my job, patients come for regular cleanings every 6 months. Since I’m not a hygienist, that means I won’t always see every patient that comes into the office. So this condolence process could very well last into the rest of the year. Until they cycle through my side of the operators or we happen to meet each other in the hallway, or I suppose if they singled me out. I know they all mean well, and I truly love and appreciate their support, kind words, thoughts and prayers. How blessed I am to have so many people love me and my family! I truly mean this. God may not have blessed me by saving my child. But boy did he bless me in many other ways. I want my patients and other people in my life to be able to communicate their love and concern for my family. And who knows, the day it starts happening, may end up being as easy as today was. However, in the case it does not, I’m comforted that my boss and I have an escape route 🙂
I had a patient come in today, not because he had an appointment, but simply because he wanted to stop by to see me. To say hi, he’s thinking about my family, he’s praying for us. Man did I give him a big hug. That’s got to be one of the best shows of love. I handled it just fine. But this particular gentleman, he’s been on the journey since we found out our diagnosis, and he’s just one of those guys you just have to love. His wife and children are very lucky. I consider him a blessing.
A friend I’ve recently made, who has a story of her own. Much different than mine, but equally as sorrowful. Came to my office on her lunch break to bring me a comfort gift. Her lunch break! Now we all know how coveted those are. What a blessing this friendship has become to me. And I hope it’s a blessing to her as well. And to think, our paths probably would not have cross had it not been for Logan.
One thing has become very clear to me lately, and that is: blessings do not always come in the form that we ask for. Sometimes you have to look outside the box you’re trying to build. Step back and look around. There is something you’re not seeing. I was told by my Dr (whom I respect greatly), at the end of each day, think of 3 positive things in your life. And if you do this each day, you’ll begin to see the positives outweighing the negativity trying to weigh you down. In the next lane to that, are your blessings. Think of the blessings outside of what you’re asking for, look around your life daily, what do you have to be thankful for? In your trial that your facing, what other stressors do you have? Have you lost sight of them in your struggle with your trial? Have those stressors been blessed, but you didn’t notice because you were focused solely on your trial?
Tomorrow is a new day. I am proud of myself for making it through today in the manner I have. Not only did I survive the day at work, I even went to a class at the gym. I’m patting myself on the back for this one. I love Logan no less simply because I had a good day. Not everyday has to be a sucky day. Good days are just as much apart of my journey as the bad ones. However I hope that more good ones are on the way, and the bad ones are leaving out the back door.