two ends to every rod

A friend is a person with whom I may be sincere. Before him I may think aloud. I am arrived at last in the presence of a man so real and equal, that I may drop even those undermost garments of dissimulation, courtesy, and second thought, which men never put off, and may deal with him with the simplicity and wholeness... with which one chemical atom meets another. ~Ralph Waldo Emerson

It's started to emerge again, and I've tried to stay distracted.
Anything but acknowledge all these changes. It's not that change is inherently bad, only that I have never done well with it. My mind is constantly trying to wrap around every emotion surging through my body. To boil it down. To simplify that which cannot be simplified. It's always complicated with me.
And how I hate being complicated.
I wish I was one of those people living in a sitcom whose life can be effortlessly compartmentalized. Do you ever wish that? Issues resolved in a half hour time slot, group hugs at the end after which all breathe a sigh of relief that "We got through that one". I want to feel so 2 dimensional. I know those people don't exist. I know everyone has stuff. Still, sometimes I wish.

Birth is all around me. So is death.
I can't think about one without the other tagging along.

At times my grief has scared me.
Like when I first found we were pregnant--- I kept referring to baby as babies, and them. My brain picked up where we left off (minus the funeral). Sort of like a do-over. Who does that? I don't want a do-over, I want all of my babies. Here. With me. Now.
Every time it happened, we tried to ignore it. Tried to pretend that this gain didn't remind us of our loss.

There are those who seemed relieved when we announced we were pregnant--- as if somehow it were an open symbol we had moved on. Of course we haven't moved on--only through. It's okay though, I can't expect everyone to understand. But my, what a blessing when they do.