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Monday, was a hell of a day. Grief snuck up on me and hit me pretty hard. It was my first visit with the doctor since being released from the hospital, and as soon as I opened the door… BOOM!

Totally caught off guard. I looked to my left and saw a women whom I had seen at the doctors many times prior to delivery, belly expanded and that pregnancy shine… BOOM!

Tears started to roll gently. I kept it together long enough to sign-in and make it to my seat, but it was all over once my bottom was secure. I sat in my grief, disappointment and anger. To add salt to the wound, there was a mistake at the front desk so they did not sign me in on the computer. I sat in that waiting room as pregnant women, some with children and spouses, came in and out for 1hour and 26 minutes.

Hell.

I sat there, watching women and children walk in and out. Some of the women I remembered from earlier visits… they are showing… close to delivery and I just wept. I could not control it, and I like to be in control. Everyone around me so full of joy and holding within the potential of life… I felt empty and alone.

Words from three close friends got me through. Encouragement to breathe and allow myself to feel, I do not have to try to be strong. The reminder that sometimes it may be best to be surprised by grief and just go through it, release control. Reminders that I am not going through alone and though very feelings are very real, they can at times deceive.

I made it through all of the rubble of that morning, had a good visit. Physically I have healed well. However, the grief made me realize some interior places that need to be attended to as I transition back into some routines.

A colleague gave me a term for my experience with grief Monday morning… Emotional land mines… They are there, don’t exactly know when or where they will be set off, but…

Naming it helps, along with the awareness that they (emotional land mines) are there and probably be present the rest of my days. They may not go off as often as they do in these present days, but they will be there for sure. That’s how grief goes.

Instead of working to avoid them, I think I am going to work real hard to figure out practices that help me get through them without being destroyed. Honesty, breathing and creating (mostly through photographs) are three helpful practices I discovered yesterday when I went back to work.

I only went in for a few hours. It was good. Only one minor explosion, and I was thankful for it because it inspired me to go on a photo walk downtown to find an image that could express how I was feeling.

The photos of this blog are two of the ones I received during my walk. They are of the rubble of a building that was turn down to prepare for new affordable apartments that will providing housing for individuals who are without a home. A Houston artist, Gonzo, had created a mural on the side of the building to honor the births/lives of men and women who find themselves living on the streets. The wall was covered with the image of babies in the cradle position, various colors and sizes. It was a cool piece. Looking forward to watching and documenting this building project over the months to come.

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