Last night, Justin and I had lined up Uncle D to watch Benjamin, thinking we'd try out another support group - one about child loss.
We got a last-minute invite to meet a group of others that we met last week at our infant loss support group. At first, I didn't think I could meet them at a restaurant, considering I've barely been able to leave the house and change out of yoga pants. But then I decided that if there was anyone who understood why this is tough for me, it is these people. So we went.
There were 9 of us, tucked away in a corner at the bar. We talked about how we met our spouses, where we work, how our children died, how fallopian tubes are tested for blockages. It's a relief to have our children woven into our conversations naturally. I showed off photos of Lydia on my phone. They told me she is beautiful (she is). We joked about dressing our urns up for Christmas - do they make tiny little Santa hats for them? We joked about calling ourselves the Dead Baby Club. It's perverse, I get that, but I haven't laughed that much in approximately 5 weeks.