For a while now, I have wanted to send out Thank You notes to people who helped out, reached out, or have just generally helped us heal since losing Ryan. Mostly though, I've wanted to send a note of thanks to the nurses from the night of my delivery. These amazing women who helped me survive the worst day and night of my life.
Today, I spent entirely too much time selecting stationery. I settled on colourful butterflies on recycled paper. I wanted something beautiful, because despite the misery of that night, it was still the night we met Ryan for the first time -- and there is great beauty in that moment regardless of the fact that it was also the last time.
On the way home, I started composing my note in my head. And suddenly I was slammed with a gigantic wave of grief. Dissolved into tears I thought about how I didn't want to just thank them for getting me through. For hugging me. And letting me cry. I needed to help them too. I needed to give them some advice, for the next time they have to help someone like me. I missed out on so much with Ryan. Changing him. Exploring him. Taking pictures of him. Because I was too scared to ask. Because I was exhausted and sleeping. I need to let these nurses know, in the most gentle way possible, that it's okay to give more guidance to new angel-moms. That we don't know what we're supposed to do. That it's okay to wake us up. To encourage us to participate. Because we just don't know.
I couldn't write the cards today. I'm still too overwhelmed. But I'm one step closer. And I know that once I get them written, the next hurdle will be returning to the maternity floor to deliver them. And I don't think I'm quite ready for that.
Everything is one step, one day, at a time. I'll get there. And in the meantime, I'm thankful for everyone's patience.