Yesterday Ray wasn't working and we went into town to run a few errands. We popped into my workplace to hand in another sick note and I saw two colleagues that I hadn't seen since I had my babybump. One of them asked if I was feeling better, as if I'd had an illness. Neither of them uttered one word about my George.
So I did.
I spoke about George's birth and about not being healed since George was born and they should have given me a D&C straight away after George's birth. George George George George. Damm them! How dare they not mention my lost baby.
What on earth is wrong with us that we think it is somehow better to not mention the dead. As if by not mentioning them the death didn't really happen. HA! You can't fool me, I know I had a baby.
We went for a coffee after that (decaf, keep with the good habits) and Ray was a little surprised by my anger, (I growled, I think) for him it's too painful when other people DO mention George. He doesn't want to forget or pretend, it just hurts.
Today I'm not as angry as I was yesterday, and a little proud of myself.