Ok, I have to stop and say I feel so guilty about posting anything at ALL because I just start thinking about Mirne and Craig....but I will keep going because I guess that's all I know how to do!
Anyway, my classes are good. I have two 7th grade classes that had my long-term sub at the end of last year and have me now. The good part of this, is that they all absolutely swear that I am the greatest teacher ever and that they feel so lucky to have me now. The bad part of this is that since it was pretty much an emergency, the sub for me really wasn't a French teacher and so I have to start all over with them. In the scheme of life, this doesn't matter. Really. So, anyway, I'm having fun getting to know the 180 students I have at once!!!!
So, last night we had open house. This is a time when parents can come in with their children and meet their teachers, see their classrooms. I actually wasn't too worried about it. I was so tired and not looking forward to being at work from 7 am until 7 pm, but that was about it. I guess I wasn't really prepared for how it would affect me.
Parents with their kids. The pride they show on the faces. The smiles they get when you're speaking about them. That look. You know the look-the one they get when they look at their child, the love of their life. It gets me right down deep. Sophie and Aiden won't make it to middle school and that is something that I just find hard to believe. Part of me is still waiting for this to be a nightmare that I will wake up from. Part of me, I think, will always be waiting.
Then, I realized that WE are everywhere. Babylost mamas. We're hidden in places that you just don't know. A boy and his mom came in. He is a 7th grader, a boy that I should have had last spring but was out on my maternity leave. His mom came up to me and introduced herself. There was a language barrier; she was a native Spanish speaker. Typically, I only see 6th graders, new to the school, on open house. I told her that I enjoyed having her son in class and she nodded and smiled. We talked a little more, but it was clear that the language barrier was making it hard, there was a natural pause in the conversation and I thought she'd walk away-there were other parents waiting. She started to walk away and then she said, "How are you?" which I thought was kind of odd, because we had already been talking. I just looked at her and said, "I'm doing well, thank you." She and her son started to walk away and then he stopped. He said, "My mom wants to tell you she's sorry about your babies."
My pulse quickened and my mouth turned dry. I couldn't lose it now, not in front of all of these parents-I felt like they were all listening in.
She leaned close into me and whispered, with a thick accent, "I lost one, too. I had twins and one died. Every time I look at her I feel so bad that I can't see the other one. It hurts me bad. I'm so sorry for you."
I thought immediately of Catherine W and tears sprang to my eyes. I looked into this woman's eyes and I could see a little of ME.
She hugged me tight. And she left.
I don't know how to explain how this left me reeling. I don't know how to explain how this made me feel. Such utter sadness, way down deep. Such love for this woman I did not know. Such gratitude for her taking the time to talk to me. Such, such, such sadness.
I am making through this week, begrudgingly. I feel such resentment that I have to be there. I feel so tired. I feel like I don't have the time anymore to grieve. I feel like I'm just pretending, walking through life on autopilot. I'm having fun, but it's not the same. I guess I'm just getting by.