On Surviving Valentine's Day

This is a shitty day for me every year. Well, at least since 2011. I found out my daughter had hydrops on Valentine's Day 4 years ago and that she would not survive the congenital conditions that were co morbid to it. Its not hard to see how that could cast a dullness over this day of Hallmark celebration.
Recently I have been dealing with a lot of guilt and anger over her death and it has put me in bad headspace. At the encouragement of my husband and friends, I have been pushing myself to keep my mind elsewhere, giving myself her Stillbirthday to fall apart. That day is Wednesday, and is a post for another time, a stronger time.
So this Valentine's Day rolls around and sees me grumped out on the couch and ready to strike at the wrong look, admittedly my usual approach to the day. It is hard to see others happy when you are withering up on the inside, and no, that doesn't make me bitter. My husband, dear soul, refused to allow my sadness to over take me this year. He came home with a single red carnation and a bag of Hershey's hugs because "You need a hug, my love." I couldn't have married a more perfect person. Such a small gesture, but enough to show me he respected my sadness and wanted to say he loved me. It ended up turning my mood around somewhat.
Next thing you know, The Tula happens. Tula is a baby carrier, a very fancy shmancy one. I babywear our Peanut, so it is a lovely gift. Not only is it a Tula, but a half wrap conversion Natibaby Rainbow Cogs. Now there's this saying, the baby you have after a loss is your Rainbow baby. I don't think he fully grasped how special of a gift it was, although he knew I had a mom crush on the wrap itself. As it so happens, he found it by accident online and as silly as it sounds, it felt like permission to be happy. After my daughter passed I saw rainbows EVERYWHERE. It became a healing thing, seeing a rainbow made me think of her. Our little Peanut was due the same day as she was, and on her birthday that year we saw a rainbow in the sky- in the middle of February. It was like a sign from her that he would be okay. He was, although 6 weeks early. Again, a rainbow the day he was born. So having a rainbow Tula to carry my Rainbow Peanut in is cathartic for me, in the best way possible.   Its a wonderful gift and a sweet reminder to hold my living children very close, and how can you get any closer than babywearing? These thoughts got me through the day, making it the first Valentine's Day I have gotten through without a total meltdown.
Given how sweet he had been all day, and how much thought he had put into cheering me up, I decided to try to get into the spirit of the day and pull out some of my lingerie. Well let me tell you, after 4 children things just don't fit like they used to. I sure did manage to lace myself up into that itty bitty corset, but the resulting downward squish of my chub was pretty tragic... I stood there laughing, as much as one could without being able to breathe, after having spent 20 minutes or so wrangling all my jiggly bits into it. Unfortunately that laughter was quickly followed by panic when I realized the metal clasp in the very middle was stuck tight. I can imagine from an outside point of view this would have been hilarious, given that I ended up having to lie on the bathroom floor and stop breathing for a few minutes to get it undone.
All in all, it was a good day. Admittedly, today I feel guilty for having enjoyed it. I don't know if that is "normal" or not, but it is true. Grief is a really odd thing, waxing and waning on its own schedule. Sometimes the date has no significance and I find myself in a puddle on the floor, missing her with achy arms. I can't promise I will next year, but this year I survived Valentine's Day, even though my sweet baby girl never once left my mind. Maybe this is just part of the process, maybe it was just a good day. I suppose I will never know.