Waiting For the Storm to Pass

Today was my last day of prep as tomorrow I start filming. I had been dreading the cast table read as I had yet to see most of the cast. As I drove over to the office it felt as though a storm was brewing inside me. I could feel the anticipation mounting as I was afraid of some of the conversations I might have to have. I didn't know which actors knew and which ones didn't. Last year, I had talked with Claire and Morena numerous times about the baby. Being all the same age and newly married, babies were on all of our minds so when they found out I was pregnant (and they figured it out before anyone) it soon become the topic of many of our conversations. Claire had even made me promise to text her when we found out the sex of the baby since the show would be on hiatus when we found out. As promised I did and she was so excited to see that the string test had been correct. I knew Morena knew about Nolan's death as she had sent us flowers and a card to our house the day we got home from the hospital. I had also seen Morena on Monday and had already hugged her and talked with her. Claire, however, I had not seen and I knew if Morena knew so did Claire. As expected, it appeared that most of the guys did not seem to know what happened. Fortunately, they also seemed to have forgotten that I was pregnant at the end of the show. I was barely showing when the show ended last season, so it is understandable that they would have forgotten. At least I dodged that bullet for now. Eventually, I am sure it will come out though but I will deal with that then. For today Claire was the only one I had to briefly deal with. Since she was unable to speak to me before the table read, I thought I might sneak out before she had a chance to say anything but I wasn't. As I was exiting she excused herself from her conversation to come over and give me a hug and tell me how sorry she was. We both got a little choked up. It was good to see her and I am sure we will talk more later about it. I felt a sigh of relief as I exited the room and promptly left the building. I had weathered the storm. Monday I had shown my face to all the crew and today I saw all the actors and I managed to do it all without bursting into tears.

I figured while I was on a role overcoming obstacles, I would try to find Marshall something for Father's Day. What do you get someone for Father's Day when there is no longer a kid? Most would probably say nothing and that's probably why he didn't think to get me anything until last weekend when he bought me a CD. I didn't fault him for it. In a way it kind of seems silly to buy Mother's Day and Father's Day gifts when there is no child to be a mother and father to anymore. But the truth is we were a mother and father and so we now and forever will be. Even if we never had another child, nobody could take away the fact that we were somebody's mother and father. Just because a parent dies doesn't mean a child stops being a child and just because our child died doesn't mean we stopped being parents. It's just different than either of us had expected, that's all. So I found myself in Barnes and Nobles wondering around. I wasn't even sure why I was there or what to even look for to get Marshall. He isn't a big reader so why am I in Barnes and Nobles? Oh well, since I'm hear I might as well get a coffee and peruse the aisles. I did find some great pieces of artwork with sayings on them. The one I liked the best said, "Life isn't about waiting for the storm to pass, it's about learning to dance in the rain." I had been waiting for the storm to pass all this time. It was never going to. I could wait my whole life and this storm is never going to go away. The sky will always be dark. Until I learn to dance in rain, my situation won't get any better. Only we have have the power to make a crappy situation better by our outlook on it. Nobody is going to give us any closure other than the closure we give ourselves. I think Marshall and I have danced in the rain of this storm as much as we could and will continue to do so until eventually we see a rainbow peeping through. I know in my heart that eventually the sun will break through the darkness and there will be sunny days ahead. We just first have to weather this storm and do the best we can not to get sucked up in it. It would be real easy for us both to through ourselves a pity party and drown ourselves in our sorrow, but that wouldn't bring Nolan back. Nothing will bring Nolan back. Nothing will change our situation. The only thing we can do is try to make the best of the crappy hand of life we've been dealt right now and try to better ourselves and our relationship because of it. Hopefully, by doing so we will be better people and better parents in the long run. I didn't buy the artwork today but I think the saying is a good one for us to remember. Whenever I am feeling down I will look at that photo and try to dance in rain instead of waiting on the storm to pass.

Books: Mirrors of the Soul

So my cousin Jay has gone away for a couple of days and left me and the dogs in his big house by ourselves. I would say his big empty house only his house is far from empty. If you were to look at Jay and I, you would probably not think we are related. We don't look much alike, that's for sure. But, one thing the two of us have in common is books. We love them. We buy them. We read them. We keep them. Marshall doesn't understand this about me. He is constantly telling me to get rid of my books that I've already read. He doesn't understand that I just can't do that. Not being much of a reader, Marshall certainly doesn't understand keeping a book after you have actually managed to read it. I'm sure several of my cousins would agree with him. In fact, a lot of people probably would. But, I'm sure any other English major out there would totally understand me and my cousin Jay. Now having both a BA and a MA in English, I acquired a good many books. Since getting my MA in 2004, I've acquired even more. I have a Barnes & Nobles member card for goodness sake. I can't let it go to waste!

I have to read a lot for my job - scripts that is. Every script that I work on, I've read numerous times. So reading things over again is something I'm okay with. Thus, getting rid of a previously read book is out of the question for I never know when I might want to reread it. In fact, before leaving for Charlotte I just rebought the book Good in Bed by Jennifer Weiner because I hadn't been able to find it for some time and thought I would like to reread it. I have yet to reread it, but I did bring it with me to Charlotte. I go through phases of reading. Sometimes I read prolifically. Other times I can't even crack one open. But, I am always buying books. I am one of those people that can spend all day in a bookstore. I dream of what my own personal library will look like one day. In fact, in one of my journals I have a printed off picture of my library. It looks a bit like the one from Beauty and the Beast - fireplace, grand piano, spiral staircases that lead to a reading loft. Ahhh. One day. Some people dream of riches and gold, I dream of a very large library to call my own. I know, it's weird. But, if I ever do become wealthy I will have a large enough house to accommodate my now more realistic view of my own personally library.

It still entails a loft and floor to ceiling books, but on a much smaller scale. I still wouldn't mind a fireplace and a baby grand piano would be divine, but I can manage without. For me, books have always been a source of comfort. Maybe it's the writer in me, or maybe it was because I was an only child. I don't know. I've always found that I don't feel so alone when I read a book. So tonight as I look and see myself surround by books, I feel as though I'm not alone in this big house with just my dogs. The floor to ceiling walls of books that surround me blanket me with the pages full of words. It's like being in a room with lots of people talking but you aren't really listening to any of them. Instead, you just soak in the hum of gabber knowing that you are surrounded.

Virginia Wolfe said that "books are the mirrors of the soul." Maybe that's why I have so many and they are very diverse. I, like most women, am complex. But, the books I own all relay something about my past. They were either books I read for research or school, or books that interested me during a specific point in my life. They chronicle the life of my soul. I went through a phase where I was fascinated with people and the development of characters based on real life people in my writing. During this phase, I collected a good collection of memoirs and autobiographies. The choices of memoirs though are not what one might expect - Anais Nin and Augusten Burroughs to name a few. Yes I guess I've always gravitated to the bizarre. I will be interested to see what this phase of my life produces in regards to my library. I can't imagine it will be too bright and cheery. Nevertheless, I will buy these books, read them or put them away for future reading in the hopes that one day they will all be a part of some fabulous personal library in my house.

My cousin Jay, on the other hand, has already begun his personal library. Where I have one room at my house with one wall completely full of books and another wall half full, Jay has a whole house full. Seriously, every where you look - Books. As I am sitting in my bedroom writing this right now there are books all around me. It's almost comically actually. If Jay was actually married I'm sure the book situation would not be this out of control. Sure he would have them all, but I'm sure there would be more rhyme and reason to their whereabouts. Instead, they are shoved in nearly every nook and cranny Jay can possibly find to put them. Cicero once said that "a room without books is like a body without a soul." Well if that's true, Jay's house has plenty of soul.

Everything is a Miracle

Since the filming schedule has changed and I don't work now until Friday, I had some time to kill this week. Thankfully, last night when I went to the Y to check out Zumba class, I ran into a friend of mine, Kathy. After chatting last night, we decided to meet today for lunch. I had the pleasure of not only dining with her, but also with her two boys - Caleb (4) and Eli (6 months). Kathy's son Eli is somewhat of a miracle baby himself. Born at full term (40 weeks), Eli only weighed 4lb 4oz - which was almost a whole pound smaller than Nolan when he was born at 34 weeks. Kind of depresses me when I think about it knowing Nolan could have survived if they had just taken him out a few days earlier. Born on December 7, 2011, Eli didn't come home from the NICU until Christmas Eve. When he came home he weighed only 4lb 11oz - still not even Nolan's weight! Ugh. At the time when all this happened, I remember reading all the updates on Kathy's FB page and I just couldn't believe it. How did they not know something was wrong? Well, it turned out that Kathy had a non-cancerous tumor in her uterus which normally wouldn't harm a pregnancy but apparently the placenta had attached to her tumor. So instead of Eli getting the nutrients from the placenta, the tumor did. Crazy. Again, how did they not know this? I found out in March that there's a lot of things they just don't know.

Today at lunch as we looked at Eli sitting there now a happy and healthy (and barely on the growth charts) 6 month old, we talked about what had happened to both of us and how it is so hard to believe that with all the medical technology they can't foresee these things. It's hard to believe that we are virtually helpless to help a baby in utero. By the time we know something is wrong, it often is too late to do anything about it. Kathy looked at me and said, "it's like you said in your post, it's a miracle they are ever even born." Fortunately, in Kathy's case Eli was born alive and medical technology was able to help him. Other than being the size of a 3 month old at 6 months old, Eli appears perfectly normal and healthy. I did manage to hold Eli - which is by far the smallest baby I've held since Nolan passed away. The only other baby I've held was Dylan and he is more the size of a 10 month old even though he is only 7 months old. Eli was cute and happy, but I couldn't help thinking while I held him that I should be holding my son right now. I should be here at lunch with Kathy and our sons. I am happy though that she brought the boys and I'm happy that she told me, "if you don't want to I understand, but if you want to hold Eli, you can." I love babies. I always have. That is why I got pregnant in the first place. I feel as though some of my friends that have had babies or are expecting babies are afraid of me and have been avoiding me. I'm sure they just don't think I want to be around babies or are trying to not rub my face in what they have and I don't, but in the same regard, I don't like being treated like a leopard. Maybe it was Kathy's scare with Eli that made her different, but I'm glad that she treated me like she would have before Nolan's death.

After I left lunch with Kathy, I drove across the street to my Aunt Linda's house to visit a bit with her. The last time I saw my Aunt Linda was in January for my Uncle Jim's funeral. After Nolan passed away, Aunt Linda had sent me a book entitled My Beautiful Broken Shell. I imagine someone gave this to her after Uncle Jim passed away, but I actually forgot to ask her. My aunt has been scarcely home since my uncle's passing and it seems as though she will be gone for most of July as well. As we sat in her enormously empty house and talked about all her travel plans, she leaned forward and said, "it's like you said, if you keep yourself busy you don't have time to be in the reality of things." My aunt might not know anything about losing a child, but she knows how it feels to lose the love of her life. As I looked at my aunt I thought, it's a miracle either one of us got out of bed today. It does feel like a miracle some days that I even have the strength to force myself out of bed when I don't have anything pressing I have to do. At least with work starting, I will be forced to get out of bed every day for a purpose. I saw a card the other day with this quote on it that resonated with me for some reason I didn't really understand at the time. I purchased the card even though I didn't really know why or what I was going to do with it. After all, I was looking for a Father's Day card and left with only one card and the card read:

"There are only two ways to live your life. One is as though nothing is a miracle. The other is as though everything is a miracle. - Albert Einstein" Now I believe this quote struck me because I once lived my life as though nothing was a miracle. I just expected that good things would happen to me because I was a good person. My philosophy on life has changed. Now everything is a miracle to me.

Hellos

The last time I had experienced a panic attack, I was in graduate school. There I would experience very mild ones on a regular basis. I even went to student health on a couple of occasions convinced there was something else really wrong with me for I honestly had no idea why I was having panic attacks. I did perfectly well in graduate school. I didn't feel overwhelmed or stressed beyond normal limits. But with the end of graduate school came the end of my panic attacks. My husband has told me of himself having a few panic attacks. One of which occurred on the Ravenel Bridge in Charleston, SC on his way to work. At the time he thought he might be having a heart attack, which of course he wasn't. I didn't think much of it knowing that my husband is deathly afraid of heights and if you have ever been on that suspension bridge you know it can be a bit hairy on windy days. Recently though he had one on set. He ended up having to step away for a bit. I'm not sure what prompted it and I don't know if Marshall even really knew himself. Today, I think I might have had an idea what caused his though for as I pulled up to the Homeland sound stages I began to become out of breath. I parked and suddenly my breath became quicker and more shallow and my chest began pounding. I had to sit for several minutes in my car before I could manage to slow my breathing. I was practically shaking. This was another one of those firsts Tifni talked about. Although it wasn't my first official day back to work, it was my first day seeing my coworkers. It had been some time since I saw a bunch of people that wanted to tell me how sorry they were for my loss. In fact, other than cards that we still periodically get in the mail and errant Facebook messages, I hadn't heard those words said to my face in quite some time. Everyone I saw on a regular basis already knew and had said everything they wanted to say to me. Sure I had a person every now and then say it, but not 50. I took a deep breath and cut the car off. Ready or not, I was doing this.

I tiptoed in to the office, but no sooner had I rounded the corner than I was met immediately with 5 people coming towards me with arms outstretched. They all said how much they missed me and were glad I was back and so on and so forth. I smiled and thanked them all and tried to remember how to chit chat. All I could come up with was, "so, how's the show been going?" I would repeat this phrase another 50 times before I left. For most people it was just the obligatory hug, the head tilt to the side and the, "I'm so sorry for your loss, Kara." I choked back tears numerous times, determined I was not going to cry in front of these people. I did manage to get pulled away for a few minutes by one of my closest friends on the set, Jen. She asked how being on set had been for me so far and if I was tired of all the head tilts and people looking at me with such sympathy. I smiled because she was stating out loud exactly how I was feeling. There was a subdued way with which everyone spoke to me. You know that tone you use at funeral homes or libraries. It was as if they spoke any louder I would surely burst into tears. I did receive some pretty fierce hugs that had they gone on even a moment longer I was surely going to break into tears. The women just hugged me, told me if I needed anything to let them know, and then told me how great I looked. I assume they meant for just having a baby I looked almost back to normal, but nobody said the words - just having had a baby. The men were a little bit less talky and more huggy. They gave me some great big bear hugs and then usually just asked about Marshall and was he still on Army Wives. Only a few men actually said they were sorry. I think most of them didn't know what to say. A few got pretty choked up when they attempted to say something to me so instead they stopped and just hugged me again and left. When I was down in Charleston over the weekend, Marshall and I had run into one of the biggest most burley grips on his show, Tim. Tim had come over and put his arm around me and asked how I was and that he had been thinking about me. Marshall was shocked to see Tim so gentle and kind to me and was amazed that Tim had said anything to me at all. That amazement was replicated today as one after one, the big burley grips came and hugged me. The biggest one of all (an ex boxer) actually spoke the words, "I was so sorry to hear about your baby, Kara." He then actually spent a moment talking to me about it and it amazed me that he had the courage to approach the subject when so many people don't. I don't expect people to, but I'm okay with talking about it if they ask. I think most people just don't ask because they don't know if it will cause any more pain for us.

Although I only spent a little over an hour at the office, I was emotionally pretty spent by the time I left. I ran by the Y to find out about Zumba classes only to learn that there wasn't one until the evening. So, I decide I would head back to Jay's and see a familiar face. Maybe that would cheer me up. Instead, I pulled in to an empty driveway. My heart sunk for a moment. I don't really want to be alone. But then I looked up and standing at the door were my two babies - JoJo and Buster. I wouldn't be alone as long as I had them to come home to and I immediately smiled at the sight of them. As soon as I got out of the car they both began wagging their tales and fetching their toys for me to see. The best hellos I received all day were from my puppies. They don't tilt their heads and look at me with sympathy. They just smile and wag their tags and are so excited to see me they can hardly contain their happiness within their bodies. Their excitement is infectious and it makes me smile and warms my heart. Dogs love unconditionally no matter what you do, or what you say, or what has happened to you. They shower you will love and happiness every time you walk in the door. Marshall had said it would be good for me to have them up here with me at first and he was right. Jay is going to be gone for a few days and then starting Sat I will be in my new apartment so the only company I will have when I come home with be my dogs. I know the same was true for my house in Wilmington after Marshall went back to work, but it was different there. In Wilmington I knew that if I couldn't take it any longer, there were people I could call to come over or I could go to their houses. I also was home with all the comforts I knew. Right now the only thing that makes coming back to Jay's home seem a bit like home is my dogs. But boy do they give the best Hellos!

Charlotte

A year ago this time I was traveling to Charlotte to work on season one of Homeland. Even though I had worked on numerous movies and plenty of TV shows, this would be the first TV show where I was the primary script supervisor. It was a big deal for me and a huge show. I was so excited. Having worked on the pilot for Homeland in January of 2011, I knew the show had the potential to be great. It's amazing what a year can do. Now it was with trepidation that I made the trip up to Charlotte to begin work on season two. I was now going to be walking in on a show that had already been filming for over a month, and for the last two weeks had been filming in Charlotte. The producers kindly let me take some additional time as I informed them I just didn't think I would be ready to come back to work in May. But now it was June and it was time for me to go back to work. It had been over 10 weeks since Nolan had died. In some ways, 10 very long weeks. In others, 10 extremely short weeks.

The sky seemed to reflect my sentiment tonight as I drove and rain poured down from the Heavens. Even though I was feeling somewhat better about having to leave my house, I now had to leave my husband. My only saving grace was that I can't move in to my apartment until Friday and so my cousin Jay graciously allowed me to stay with him for the first few days. At least I wouldn't be going to some empty new apartment by myself or, even worse, some sterile hotel room. I would see a friendly face and have some company. It was after 9pm when I finally pulled in to Jay's driveway, but thankfully Jay was a night owl. He helped me carry my stuff in and then chatted a bit with me before I eventually had to excuse myself to get ready for bed.

Tomorrow I have to go to the office and say hello to everyone. Some of the hellos are surely going to be difficult. I'm sure a lot of people won't know what to say to me and so some won't say anything at all. And that's okay. I wouldn't know what to say to me either. What do you say to someone who loses their baby for no apparent reason? I'm sorry seems such a trivial thing to say and, in a way, it is. Sometimes I wish people would just pretend as though nothing happened and treat me like they always do. Instead, I know everyone is going to have kid gloves on around me. Nobody wants to say the wrong thing or do the wrong thing. It's like Marshall said. At his work several guys have recently had babies. Ours was the only one that died. Now Marshall says they appear to not talk about their babies around him or stop talking when he comes near. We aren't bitter at other people's happiness. Yes it does seem cruel that people that don't even want babies have perfectly healthy ones while ours dies, but I'm not going to fault them for that. At least I have my "babies" here in Charlotte with me for a few weeks. The dogs are great company and will help me to adjust to being in Charlotte, especially on Friday when I move in to my own place.

Music Therapy

Music has always played a huge part in my life. From the time I was able to reach the keys, I was sat at a piano and taught to play little ditties. I sometimes wish I had been more interested in music at the time and less interested in dance for my piano playing is somewhat basic but I love it. I love to listen to piano music and I love to play it. I only wish I could play it better. My husband, on the other hand, is a very talented musician. A self taught guitarist, he is the type that can hear a song and figure out how to play it within minutes. His first instrument was a violin that he had found, believe it or not. Later he inherited his older brother's guitar when it became apparent he was the only one with any interest in learning to play. I guess like most musicians, he too wishes he had other gifts. The gift he wants - to be able to play the piano. Now, we have a piano in our house. A very old piano. It used to belong to my Aunt Fran and I'm not sure where it came from before her. I inherited it when I started to play and I still have it. It is an old standard Kimball piano. Its ivory keys are now a more yellowish color. I play it every now and then. One thing Marshall had prayed for was for his son to have long fingers so that if he was interested in playing the piano he would "at least have the right equipment." Nolan was indeed blessed with long fingers. He probably would have made an excellent pianist, if he had wanted to be one.

Marshall once told me that when he goes through bad things he stops listening to and playing music. When we had come home from the hospital, Marshall had played his guitar one day for a bit and then put it away. He didn't pick it up again for weeks. When he did, he started talking about buying a new guitar. Thanks to the deal Army Wives had with Fender, Marshall was able to get an amazing electric guitar for a fraction of the cost. This week, that guitar was delivered to his parents house in Charleston. Marshall's mom said he had been like a 6 year old on Christmas morning opening it. The first thing he did when he got home last night was to show it to me and first thing this morning he played it for me. The rest of the day, Marshall told me how excited he was to be off work in a couple of weeks so he could play music. Just as writing has been therapeutic for me, playing music would be so for Marshall. He intended to write music and write about Nolan and let the music heal him.

Music can do that for people. If you are a musician, it can be healing to play an instrument and get lost in it. If you aren't, you can get lost in listening to music. I made two playlists of music after Nolan died that I listen to based on my mood. One is my Zumba playlist that I listen to whenever I need to uplifted. The other is a playlist of songs that remind me of Nolan. I listen to this playlist a lot when I am writing or when I just want to take some time to think. As we rode around Charleston today, Marshall got more and more excited about the prospect of making music with his new guitar. Then he started to tell me how he had started to really listen to music again. Perhaps one of his favorite artist (besides the Grateful Dead, because we all know Marsh is a Dead Head) is Dave Matthews. He said after listening to his album Some Devil, the songs and lyrics have all changed their meaning for him. Just as Bette Midler's song "Baby Mine" has different meaning for me now, so does Dave Matthews' "So Damn Lucky." Marshall played the song for me and described to me how he now related to the song.

In "So Damn Lucky" the lyrics that really resonated with Marshall were "Everything's different just like that/ Oh my God, wait and see/ What soon will become of me?/ Frozen hearts/ Screaming wheels/ Does that screaming come from me?" For Marshall, this song took him back to that horrible Wednesday night in March when I called him from the hospital to tell him our son had died and he needed to come home. Marshall cried a bit as he sung, "Take me back, just before I was spinning/ Take me back, just before I got dizzy/ Take me back, amazing what a minute can do." It was true. In one minute, our whole world was shattered. The true power of a great song is its ability to take you to a time and place. Right now, we are drawn to songs that remind us of Nolan or help us relate to our situation. In Marshall's case, Dave Matthews' songs help Marshall to acknowledge his own feelings about Nolan's death. In a lot of ways, I think in going back to work Marshall has had to put his healing on hold in order to get through. I'm sure I will do some of that too. It's only natural that you put up a guard while at work in order to get the job done.

I think today I was in a better mindset to really hear Marshall's advice on going back to work. Marshall is always telling me to "live in the moment" and not worry about the future. I guess I should probably listen to him and it might help me to get through going back to work. In leaving home yesterday, I should have tried to focus on the fact that I was just leaving for a short period. Just like when we left to go to Florida for a few days or when I left to go to Charleston for a long weekend. Instead, I focused on the fact that I had no idea when I would come back. But one great thing Marshall suggested was that we plan a trip for when I get off work in November. With our jobs it is hard to plan trips as we never really know when we will be working and where and we can't just take time off. So, he thought maybe Thanksgiving would be a good time for us to just take the week and go somewhere. He thought that by me having something to look forward to, it would help me get through going back to work and having to be out of town. The more we talked about it the more excited I got about the idea. Right now, we are considering going to Ireland. Marshall has been before, but I haven't and it is somewhere I've always wanted to go to - especially now that I'm married to a person of Irish decent.

We stopped at Starbucks to caffeine up and chat some more about our trip. While in Starbucks, we found a compilation CD entitled Every Mother Counts. Intrigued by the title, I picked it up and read about it. The proceeds of the CD went to Every Mother Counts to fund research on maternal health globally. Marshall bought it for me, saying it was a late Mother's Day gift for me. It was a beautiful CD, but the song that stood out the most for me on it was Seal's "Secret." Marshall after hearing it said he might have to learn to play that song for it was a beautiful love song from a son to a mother. The lyrics that resonated to me was "I belong to you/ And you belong to me/ Look at me/ I'm one of your secrets/ From what I see/ You're trying hard to keep it." As a mother, you always want to protect your children and this feeling hasn't changed even though my son died. I still want to keep him and protect him. He is my little secret in that he will always be on my mind even though others won't know he is. And he will always belong to me. In the hospital my Mother gave me a necklace with a key pendant. Attached was a note that said this was a little token for me to always remember that Nolan held the key to my heart and I his - for he belonged to me, and I belonged to him. While I can't play music in order to heal in the way that Marshall can, I still have relied on music to help me get through. Some songs stir up sadness, while others distract me and uplift my spirit. They are all necessary though as each day requires something different in order to help me heal. Fortunately, there are countless songs that speak to us and are there on the days when we need to listen to them.

For More Information on Every Mother Counts and STILLBIRTH

You Can't Go Home Again

I had always thought that after having a baby it would be difficult to return back to work. I never in a million years imagined that my baby would die, nor did I ever think it would be so incredibly difficult to go back to work after my son's death. I found today that having to leave home to return back to work on a show in Charlotte was one of the hardest things I have had to do since Nolan's death. I procrastinated all day, having no urgency in returning to work. I had a slow morning of coffee with my Dad, followed up by a couple of hours of beach time and lunch with my Mom. Finally though I had to finish what I had started last night - packing. I finished rather quickly, showered and loaded everything in the car. 5:30pm. Great. Marshall will be working until at least 9:30 so that gives me plenty of time to get down to Charleston before he gets off. I will even have time to stop and drop something off to my friend Shea on the way. But then I went in to the nursery one last time.

It was there that it hit me. I sat down in the glider and started sobbing uncontrollably. I can't do this. I can't leave. It felt as though by me leaving I was leaving Nolan again. I texted Marshall and told him I didn't know if I could leave, that I was having a hard time. I didn't know how long I sat rocking and crying. But eventually I knew I had to just do it. I had to leave. Rip the bandaid off. That's the easiest way. Eventually, I have to leave and it might as well be now. I took one last look around the nursery, making a mental picture to take with me. I looked at all the toys, all the clothes in the dresser, and the bedding in the crib. When I was pregnant, Marshall and I had bought one toy for Nolan ourselves - a Kangaroo. We thought we would be different and not get our kid a teddy bear. No, he would be the cool kid with a kangaroo he totes around. I decided to take the Kangaroo with me. I couldn't take Nolan like I had originally planned, but I could take this small reminder of him while he was still alive and in me. For me, the Kangaroo represented all the hopes and plans we had had for Nolan.

As I started to leave the nursery, I saw behind the recliner curled up in the corner Buster. He must have snuck in there while I was in the middle of my melt down for I hadn't even noticed him before now. But there he was, complacently sleeping up against the recliner under the palm tree. Buster has always been a dog that was sensitive to my feelings. If I was sick or sad he always came and would lay close to me. Any other time and he would be off doing his own thing. It was as if he was just as sad to leave as I was and I had to coerce him to come with me and leave the room.

Thomas Wolfe once said, "you can't go home again." That's how I felt today. I was leaving to go to work on a show for five months and I had no idea when I would ever be able to come back here again until November. Just as George Webber in Wolfe's novel You Can't Go Home Again realizes, so did I that "you can't go back home to your family....back home to the old forms and systems of things which once seemed everlasting but which are changing all the time - back home to the escapes of Time and Memory." My "home" is forever changed and by leaving this realization became ever more real today.

As I drove away from Wilmington, I cried some more. I've left town for work countless times, but this time it was different. My Mom had said so when she left my house after lunch. She cried as she sad it. It was true. Nolan's death made everything different. Tifni had told me weeks ago that I will always remember my firsts after Nolan's death - the first day home, the first day back to work, the first baby shower. I knew she was right again today. Now all those things are harder to do. My whole perspective on things has changed. What once seemed everlasting (my home and life) are now changing rapidly. While I had been at home it was as if Time was standing still. The world around me was moving and changing, but I wasn't. I was just focusing on self-preservation and putting one foot in front of the other. Now it was time for me to go out into the revolving world and move with it. And by doing so meant leaving Nolan behind and moving forward. I know this is a necessary part in the healing process, but it also was one of the hardest parts.

To help cheer me up I popped in a Zumba mix CD that I had made thanks to my instructor's Facebook posting of her playlist. I turned the music up loud and focused my mind on trying to mentally dance the steps to each song. For the next three hours this is how I occupied my mind to keep it from convincing my hands to turn the car back around and go home. I can't go home. I can't go home. I repeated this mantra over and over to myself while I continued my mental dance. For a second, I remembered the contest my instructor Karson was holding and thought to myself, I should win today. Nobody needs something good to happen to themselves more than me. I never win anything though. I'm actually probably the most unlucky person. I don't think I ever have won any contest my whole life. Oh well, it was a nice thought anyway.

I eventually made it to Charleston and breathed a sigh of relief. I had done it. I had left home. Now at least I would see my husband in an hour or so. After I had unpacked the dogs and my weekend bag, I sat down to talk to my father-in-law. Just then my phone dinged. I had been tagged in a Facebook post. To my amazement, I had won the Zumba contest! Are you kidding me? Really? Did someone hear my mental dialogue a few hours earlier? I was now the proud owner of some Zumba jingle bracelets and socks! Haha. It made me smile. It really did. If people knew how little things like that could bring such joy in my life, they would surely understand how grief stricken I really was. Who gets so excited to win a contest? Today, me. I could hardly wait for Marshall to get home so I could tell him the "good news." Three months ago, I probably wouldn't have even thought to tell him such a thing but now I had to tell him everything that made me smile.

As we drove to a late night movie, Marshall gave me some advice as he knew today had been a hard and emotionally exhausting day. He told me to remember to just take every day as one day at a time. Today I hadn't "left home," I had simply just come down to Charleston for the weekend to visit him. He told me to worry about going to work on Sunday when I actually left Charleston to do that. While I appreciated what he said, I told him it didn't change the fact that I had to leave without knowing when I would return. I can only trick my mind into so many things. My mind knows that the home that I had previously created and thought was impermeable had now been penetrated. The beautiful bubble I lived blissfully in had been popped and sadness was allowed to filter in. My life back home will never be the same. It is painfully true, but you really can't ever go home again after losing your child.