Well, I went to the SAND group last night for the first time in about a month. We’ve both been wanting to go, but we didn’t have a sitter for the Things and the dog, so only one of us could go. Hubby thought I should be the one to go, even though I was going to be out for a while tonight and tomorrow night. He thought that, with Mother’s Day coming, it would be good for me.
Knowing that he’s usually right about these kinds of things about me, I went. As it turned out, I was the only parent who showed up. Even one of the facilitators didn’t make it, so it was essentially a private appointment with the social worker. It was good to talk.
One of the things we talked about was that I’d like to do some kind of small something on either Paul’s birthday or the anniversary of his death. She gave me the words to a couple of songs that rang SO true for me:
The first is called “Visitor From Heaven” by Twila Paris. You can read the words and hear the song here. I don’t especially care for the melody — it sounds pretty sappy to me — but the words so much express how it was to let Paul go.
The second is an Irving Berlin song called “How Deep Is The Ocean”. It sounds like a typical love song, but apparently he lost a child at one point, so the song could have been written for his child. You can read the lyrics here.
A BIG step for me was that a couple of weekends ago, Hubby and I went to go sit with my brother-in-law and sis-in-law while Baby Michael had surgery. If he had been in the ICN or had been at UCSF, Hubby wouldn’t have let me go, but it was OK. We were there for about seven hours. We would have stayed all night if they had let us — we would have appreciated the support if we’d been in their shoes — but they kicked us out. I only had a moment of flashback to the days in the ICN, but it passed quickly. It was all so different than with Paul. Michael was so much bigger and so much healthier (even with needing surgery). Last weekend, we saw both babies at our nephew Jesse’s birthday party, and it was OK. I’m still not ready to hold a baby, but I was OK seeing them.