Erik and I went to our first support group meeting last night. We were the only ones there (July is a big vacation month. Completely slipped my mind) but it was still a very positive, but difficult, experience.
The woman who runs the class is a certified bereavement counselor and tragically lost her son in an ATV accident 20 years ago. He was only 7 years old.
After leaving group, I realized one thing. I'm that woman now. The woman that people avoid, the woman that people don't want to hear talking about her dead baby. I know this because, although it's only been 5 weeks, I've already experienced it firsthand, even from family.
The nurse who runs the program, Mary, reassured me that I wasn't going crazy. That was a surprise to me, because I've been fairly certain that one of these days Erik was going to have to call an ambulance to take me away and have me committed. That's how crazy I've felt about my life.
Next month, more girls will be there to share their story and their grief. I'm glad the first session was a "warm-up" for us, and I'm very fortunate to have such a supportive husband that wants to learn from the pain too. There's no right way to grieve, but I'm learning that my way is okay.