Ob-la-di, ob-la-da...

"It is the peculiar nature of the world to go on spinning no matter what sort of heartbreak is happening."

-from The Secret Life of Bees by Sue Monk Kidd

I ran across this line in the book I was finishing during the week after my surgery. It struck me. I read it again. Yes! I thought to myself. Even when I felt confused and stunned and sad deep down inside (right after the doctor told me our baby had died), I still chose to run errands with my sister. Can't change what has happened...might as well go on... I rationalized. I made my necessary phone calls from her cell phone while we were out and about. The next day I succumbed to my sorrow for a few hours, but life was still happening in the next room. As I lay there crying, I could hear my daughter desperately trying to help with the baby my mom was tending to. "Gran, can I help you change her diaper?" "Gran, does she have a little rash? Do you need me to get her cream?" "Gran, I will hold her bottle to feed her, okay?" My heart broke a little bit more when I realized how ready to step into the role of Big Sister Ava would have been by January. Ava soon came along and lived life with me for a while, comforting me in a way that only a two-year-old can, while the daily sounds hummed around us.

I reemerged later, sorrow and all, blending back into daily life. Having a small child around really keeps things moving. Even though you are sad, she still needs her nap, her snack time, her meals. You can't just drop out completely. After I had given myself some time to feel, it was time to let the current pick me back up and carry me where it would. We ate dinner with my sister's family that night. The next day was phone calls, haircuts and other errands. Breakfast, lunch, snack time, and dinner. Life. The next day was my surgery, which by that point was just a part of life, too. We had a thing to do. It had to be done, so we just carried on as if it were a normal part of our routine. It wasn't, of course, but it seemed like it by that point. After I lived with knowing there was a lifeless person inside me for a few days, I became ready to undo that fact so I could move on. And that's just what we started doing in the days that followed.

A few days later, I was feeling better and moving faster, so I made a concerted effort to concentrate on being a mother to my living child, to play and hug and tickle and laugh. To live. She needs me, even when my heart is temporarily broken. I will not dig myself a hole of self-pity and sit in it. My in-laws came to town that day, and I had completely forgotten they were due. When I got the call that they were here, I felt so disoriented. What day is this? Dinner tonight? Sure. We have to eat. Life goes on. Even when you don't know the day or hour. It just keeps right on moving, with or without you. I choose with me. It's too short to fritter away.

...la la how the life goes on.