I Don't Want To Go

My boss, also my friend, told us at work yesterday, or maybe Tuesday, that she wanted a list of conferences that we think we might like to go to for work by 10am today.  I knew my answer almost immediately, but didn't discuss it with her until this morning.  In my field and at my school, we are very fortunate to be given a travel stipend for conferences and professional memberships, so normally this is something I would jump on.  In fact, I had been in Tampa, FL the week before Alfy was born attending a national conference for work.  Along with the professional development side, I love that I can see and catch up with friends I have made over the years at other schools I have worked at. 

I don't know which, if any, conferences I will go to this year.  At times, we are asked to go by our director to represent our areas and I will try to do so if asked.  But if I was given the choice today, I would choose none.  The reasons I don't want to go are all over the board, but some of them surprised me.

I don't want to go to any conferences because I don't want to see all the people who last saw me pregnant.  I'm guessing there are many that are not aware that we lost Alfy.  I know some are, I've heard from those I was closest too.  I think the majority would just assume I successfully had a child though.  Today, I know that I couldn't handle "Congratulations" over and over again and the questions that follow and me explaining that our precious Alfy is no longer with us, that he was stillborn at 28 weeks.  I had that experience once this week and it was hard.  Today, I can not handle doing that over and over again in a matter of a few days.

I don't want to go to conferences because I irrationally relate my travel to Tampa to the loss of Alfy.  I mentioned in another post, grief is not rational.  I think this is the perfect example of one of those moments.  I did have concerns about Alfy's movements before I left for Tampa, but I called the doctor's office, I did what they said and it eased my concerns.  And, had I actually gone in to the doctor, they most likely would have found the heartbeat and sent me home.  That is how one would rationally think about travel.  

Had I not traveled, I would have made sure I went to the doctor that week.  The flights, the salty restaurant food, the hours spent on my feet, the swelling from all of it, the lack of sleep, somehow they all contributed to the loss of Alfy.  That is the irrational side of what I think about travel.  So, no, I don't want to travel or do anything right now that I, even if irrationally, think may have contributed to losing Alfy.

I don't want to go to conferences because there is a part of me that hopes that I will have that reason I crave so much.  Maybe, just maybe, there might be another life in the making.  And, even if it seems totally irrational to most, I will not put that new life in jeopardy by traveling.

I don't want to go to conferences because I can barely wrap my mind around the hopefulness of why I don't want to go.  I'm scared of the hope, of the future and therefore, in a long drawn out way, of conferences.  Last time I allowed myself to hope and envision my future, it was all pulled out from underneath me in one quick swoop.  If I don't hope like I did, then if it all gets pulled out again, maybe it won't hurt as much.  There it is again, the irrational side of my grief breaking through.

Okay, the last paragraph makes me angry.  Angry at my loss, angry that I even think about not hoping as much.  Why shouldn't I hope like everyone else?  Because, I know better than most the pain caused by the hope being torn apart.  It's not fair that I can't give that same hope to the possibility of another new life.