Since Cory died, so many people have reached out to us. Family, friends, even people we had never met before have sent us messages, letters, cards, books, cookies, flowers, and stuffed animals. The support has been so sweet and so helpful. People constantly inquire as to how we’re doing and it is so appreciated. It can be awkward and I know it’s not easy, but asking us about Cory is never a bad thing to do. Even if I start crying when I answer, I promise it meant more to me than I can ever convey that someone stepped way outside of their comfort zone to ask uncomfortable questions. I appreciate it so much.
There is, however, one question that I dread. So many people have asked. It’s an easy question to blurt out and it doesn’t seem hurtful or upsetting on the surface. It fits into conversation naturally. I don’t even like to talk to people lately because I know it’s going to be asked. Almost every conversation I have had in the past month and a half has included some form of this question: “So what are your plans once you get to Charleston?”
Obviously, I know there is not even a hint of malicious intent in this question. Perhaps a bit of unawareness, but certainly no desire to hurt. What I want to answer every time, but usually manage to refrain from saying, is, “Well, the plan was to have a baby.”
If you had asked me what my plans were before January 19th, I would have had an answer. I needed to paint the nursery, take a birth class, do prenatal yoga like my life depended on it. And then, sometime shortly after my birthday, become a mother. Have a baby. Be a mom. Raise my son. My plan was pretty simple and easy to follow:
1. Be healthy
2. Have a baby.
3. Enjoy having a baby.
Honestly, I’m not really sure what my “plans” are now. I am having a very hard time reconciling my life to its new course. I don’t really know where to go from here. I am exactly a semester and one class from my bachelors degree. If it wasn’t for Corban and my apparent inability to deal with any stress whatsoever while pregnant, I would be graduating in May. Unfortunately, none of the upper level history classes I need will be offered until August, so I have a lot of time to kill until then. I have had a couple job offers, but most are contingent upon finishing my degree. I have a significant amount of managerial experience plus a good deal of childcare and instructing experience so I could, feasibly, get a job. I have time, I could volunteer…somewhere. I desperately want to write a book. I suppose I could try that. I want to take guitar lessons, that might be interesting. I joined a gym so that takes up a little bit of my day.
But just know, if you ask that horrible question, you’re going to get a wishy-washy and pained answer. My son has been dead for a month and a half. I’ve been in Charleston for a little over a week. I have zero plans. A couple ideas, but nothing more than some half-baked schemes to feel like I am contributing something to the world. My plan was Cory, but he is gone. Right now, my plan is to survive and heal. Until then, I have no plans. I am aware that it is a luxury to have this time when nothing is required of me and I can just mourn, and heal, and be. Since it has been offered to me, I am going to gratefully accept it.