Grief

It's 2AM and I'm up. Nick's out of town and I'm sitting up with my thoughts watching my Little Olive sleep.  I can never sleep when Nick is gone, so I thought I would finally type up these thoughts that keep swimming around in my head.

I think of her everyday. Little Bird has been gone for close to 3 months. We keep silent mementos of her throughout our house. There are two different cute, smudgy hand prints that we refuse to clean off our mirrors. One in the hallway and one in the Littles' Room. I see them all the time. Sometimes I put my hand up to her hand print and try to remember the day and I held her up to that mirror and she smiled and reached her hand out to touch her reflection.

Her pacifiers are still under the crib. Little Bird slept with a pacifier and sometimes they would fall out of the crib during her tossing and turning. We typically would round up the stray pacifiers from under the crib every few days. After she left, we didn't pick them up anymore.  He's seen them and I've seen them - but neither one of us will reach under the crib to remove them. Because if we remove them, then that's one more piece of her that is gone.  So I keep her paci's there and smile when I catch a glimpse of them.

I don't bring this next thing up to many people, but it's part of my story and it's important for me to process, so here it goes.

I'm losing weight. At first I shrugged it off when Nick would mention my clothes looked baggy. Then I went to the annual doctor visit and saw a new number on the scale. I chalked it up to different things. I tried to blame it on the malaria I contracted earlier this summer in Uganda. Admittedly, the initial days after Little Bird left, I had no appetite. But that soon was resolved and I returned to my normal eating habits and calorie intake. Then Olive came and our wonderful friends have provided us with delicious meals. We have been dining like kings for 2 months. But I still had to go buy new jeans that didn't need to be cinched up with a belt like my old ones. I've maintained my "no exercise because-I'm-lazy policy." Then, Nick brought home a new scale last week and I weighed myself for a second time in 3 months. And saw another brand new number, different from the one at the doctor's office. I wondered aloud if I had a parasite, perhaps a tapeworm that was changing my weight? However, it's all forced me to admit what I had suspected. My body is mourning the loss of her. There is a sadness I carry. I still can't talk about her without welling up. I Googled grief and found stories similar to mine. People losing weight due to stress or grief - even though they are maintaining the same calorie intake as before.

I would gladly gain 100 pounds if it meant that I knew she was safe. That she was going to be ok. That Little Bird will grow up in a loving and stable environment and that she would never again have to see the things she's witnessed or feel afraid or alone.  This isn't about the number on the scale.

(Good news: I'm still in a safe weight range and don't intend to get in an unsafe weight range. Ever.)

Readers, Foster Moms, have you had similar experiences? This is new for me and I'm wondering when my body will go back to "neutral."

I'm also curious as to how my body will react when Olive leaves. If you've experienced this same type of thing, did it repeat itself?