Well, the time has come. I’m going back to work on Monday, and in doing so, am turning another page in my grief and life journey. If I’m being completely honest, I have mixed feelings and emotions about it, and some lurking doubts about my ability to handle it. I have done the best I can these past few months to take care of myself and find a way to function in the ‘real’ world again. One of the popular mottos for teaching has often been that ‘you can’t take care of your students if you don’t take care of yourself’… I hope that I can still continue to care for myself with grief in the right ways in order to function the best I can in my classroom. It’s not the interactions with students and staff that are giving me anxiety, it’s mostly the tasking bit. There are thousands of tiny decisions that must be made in the course of a school day, and all of them generally feel like an ’emergency’ that must be addressed immediately. On one hand, I feel that all of that will allow me to take some focus away from the underlying sadness of missing Lucy and that might actually be good for me. On the other hand, what if it is all too much? I know my threshold for stress is different than it used to be. I’d like to think that because I’ve been through the worst, so everything else is minor, right? Deep down, I think I’ve got this and that everything is going to be just fine, and I will keep telling myself that.

There are many advantages to teaching in such a small community, one being that most everyone cares. With some of my sweet students and Chris just down the hall, I should be alright. Maybe I’ll even surprise myself. I should most definitely surprise my principal, because as it stands now, I think she expects a blubbering mess. It seems that way anyhow, though I know what she’s said and offered already come from a place of concern and care. She offered for me to be ‘exempt’ from conferences next week (meaning, I could shut my classroom door and do lesson planning) and also offered to speak to all of my classes ahead of my return about etiquette for these types of situations. For conferences, she fears I will be bombarded by parents who want to share condolences. I’ve worked with my therapist on how to handle that if it gets overwhelming, and I’m willing to face it. What I’ve noticed so far in my interactions with others since Lucy’s passing is that the first ‘sighting’ is often uncomfortable for others because they don’t know what to say or do, but once they realize Chris and me are still pretty much the same people on the surface, it’s all fine and they aren’t weird after that. The parents that typically show up for conferences are ones that I am going to see often throughout the year, so it’s best to just rip the Band-Aid off, so to speak. One example of this is my interactions with a former student who works at the breakfast place just up the road… I saw her two weeks ago when I went to breakfast with two of my friends and then again this morning when Chris and I met up with another friend. When she saw me for the first time, she acted like a deer in the headlights and didn’t say much to me, though I attempted to carry on a brief conversation with her. I know it’s because she simply didn’t know what to say or how to act. Today, she came up and gave me a big hug and shared with me what she’s doing these days, and it was all fine. I know that it’s tough for others and that they don’t always know how to act around me, so (though it can seem like a lot of work sometimes) it’s up to me to make sure they take their cues from me. I intend to do this for my students on Monday. By the way, I shared with my principal that I DO NOT want her to go in and discuss etiquette on how to act around me with my students… I mean really, how to you address students on how to act around their teacher with the deceased baby? Yikes. That’s the best way to make things absolutely awkward for my poor students. I politely declined that as well, and hope that she will follow my wishes. I think most of my students are going to be just fine, and no one is going to say anything too outrageous. I don’t want anyone thinking I’m just a ticking emotional time bomb. As long as I can keep my emotions in check while at work, I know that I have my safe haven here at home if things get rough. I’ve always been good at putting on the face and switching into teacher mode, and hopefully I still can.

I received a beautiful letter from one of my students this week (pictured below) telling me that she didn’t want to be one of the people to bombard me as soon as I am back in the classroom, so she wrote a letter instead. She explained how often she thinks of me, that we didn’t deserve what happened, and that we are very loved at LHS. It was very touching and sweet and made me realize that it’s all going to be okay because there are a lot of wonderful students and colleagues who are all a part of a bigger support system than I’d realized we had. It will be another safe place to be. I just hope I can maintain the confidence that I have in this moment when I go back to the old routine.

While work is going to be familiar territory to navigate again, I still realize that nothing will truly ever be the same. I heard that song “Pompeii” by Bastille the other day… the lyrics spoke to me: “And if you close your eyes, does it almost feel like nothing’s changed at all? And if you close your eyes, does it almost feel like you’ve been here before? How am I going to be an optimist about this…?” There are moments when I close my eyes and it really almost, almost feels like nothing has changed, and that I’ve been here before… but that façade always crashes down around me immediately. So, like those lyrics, I continue to ask myself “how am I going to be an optimist about this???” I am finding ways as I go along, but it’s so difficult sometimes. Lucy is forever a part of me, my whole heart. I still find comfort in the little signs she seems to leave behind. Today I saw both a dragonfly and a butterfly, and yesterday even a little heart note (I keep finding SO many random heart shapes these days!) on the bathroom counter (also pictured below)… these tiny things bring me comfort when I need it. It made my heart smile today when Chris said a dragonfly landed on him yesterday and he felt like it was from Lucy… she continues to be a part of our constant lives, which makes me feel like maybe I can be optimistic through this somehow. There is more love for her every single day.

A heartfelt letter from my thoughtful student.

A Lucy note in the form of a heart-shaped water droplet on the bathroom counter…