Literally, the Least You Can Do

The Thursday morning after we lost Adeline, I turned to Sean over our morning coffee and asked, "Do you think there is ever going to be a morning again when I don't wake up in tears?"  I know that may sound a little dramatic, but it's really how I felt.

In general, Sean and I are solidly happy people.  We haven't dealt with much grief in our lives, and things have a way of working out for us.  We tend to joke our way through uncomfortable topics, and hard times, and we laugh while we cry, which makes things so much better.

That's why what happened at lunch on Thursday was so great.  We went to a sushi restaurant.

I love Sushi.  Sean knows I love sushi.  When our friend's Matt and Heather were offering to bring us dinner after hearing about Adeline, they asked Sean what I would like.  Sean texted back, "Katie wants Sushi, soft cheeses, and a bottle of bourbon."

At the sushi restaurant, something incredible happened.  We started cracking up.  Here's how it happened.  While we waited for our food,  we went through the large stack of papers the hospital had given us on miscarriage, postpartum depression,  and the assorted prescriptions given to me at the hospital.

In the "miscarriage," Packet there was a small section titled "Advice for Dads." But Sean decided to to rename it--- "Literally-- the least you can do." 

Here is a small sampling of their advice, with Sean's commentary below in italics:

1. You and your wife may be experiencing grief.  Remember to be kind to her.

Hey. Assholes. Don't be mean to your wife just after your kid dies.  This is literally the least you can do. 

2. Remember, your wife may not feel up to cooking dinner.  Try preparing dinner yourself, or ordering takeout.

Jack-holes. Pick up the phone and order a pizza. It's not hard. Also, you are a grown up. Learn to cook one thing. 

3. If you already have children, play with them.

OH MY GOD I CAN'T EVEN WITH YOU. GET YOUR SHIT TOGETHER. 

And so it went on.  Sean reading aloud to me, and us cracking up, strung out and exhausted though we were.  The truth is-- I don't know if there ever will be a morning again when I don't wake up crying.  Most likely there will be, but right now the grief is still to fresh.   In the meantime, it's nice to know that there will also be some lunches where we can sit together and laugh.  Even when times are hard-- it's literally the least we can do.