If I had a time machine that could transport me back two days, I would tell myself to be prepared. Grieving hits at the most unexpected times.

I felt like I had been doing really well. Feeling even-keel, going to yoga consistently, ready to take on new challenges at work. Almost completely weaned from my anti-depressants.

Then July arrived. My due date with Iris was July 28. In the back of my head, I knew it was coming, but I was not prepared for how hard I would be struck.

Wednesday night, in the company of friends, I cried and cried. They type of crying I have not done in months. The unable-to-catch-my breath sobbing. The type of crying where I don’t know what to do with my hands: do I cover my face? Do I throw something? Do I ball my hands into fists and let my fingernails cut into my flesh? I couldn’t stop crying.

I woke up the next morning feeling awful, unrelated to the alcohol that I had consumed the night before. Instead of feeling lithe and clean, I felt heavy and dirty. I threw on loose pants and a scrubby shirt as a reflection of how poorly I thought of myself. I felt icky, hatred, foreign toward my body – also the type of feelings I have not had in months. I took a bath, with the temperature so high that it caused sweat to roll down my body, the type of punishment I usually reserve for hot yoga.

I thought that the promotion at work would be a welcomed distraction. Instead I found myself feeling like I was being called out for a decision. I was about to respond curtly to justify myself, but then had to take a step back and say “Let it go. You are not in the best place right now.” In retrospect, I was reading too much into it. I thought about asking for understanding in the upcoming months as I delve back into this new wave of sadness but I held back. How long can I ask the world around me to be considerate? Society expects me to have moved past the sadness by now. Changes in my role at work will mean that I am expected to be stronger, and I wanted the change and asked for it.

I drove in the rain today. It went from sunny to dark clouds quickly. I cried, hard, in the car, as I listened to the song This Woman’s Work.

Pray God you can cope
I’ll stand outside
This woman’s work…
I know you’ve got a little life in you yet
I know you’ve got a lot of strength left

A friend told me that it’s ok to be sad. I responded that I know, but it hit me unexpectedly. The upcoming months will be hard, first passing my due date with Iris, then one year since we lost Nelle in September. For all of the effort that I have put into healing myself, I feel like I am falling down again. Hopefully, people will still be there to catch me. There is a reason I hung this sign above my stairs, as a daily reminder.