Over the past few nights, I dreamed Rich was alive, but battling cancer. We are at the hospital and he is strong and beautiful. We hold hands and hug each other. We tell each other how much we love each other and everything is going to be okay. We are full of hope and believe he has got it beat. But, only for a moment do I believe it when I wake up. I feel so relieved. Then I look next to me where he is supposed to be. Reality comes crashing back. I remember he is gone. I remember what he had to endure. I remember Madi no longer has him. I remember Ethan will never meet him. I think to myself, "I hate what has happened to my life". Then I curl up in to the fetal position and sleep most of the day away.

I no longer believe in karma. Rich was always sweet, sensitive and honest. He never did anything bad or mean to anyone. He had a huge heart and he was willing to share it with all. Maybe I don't understand karma. I thought good things came to good people. Rich was sincerely good - not because he thought he should be, but because he wanted to be. I no longer fear death. In fact, I welcome it. I want to fast forward the rest of my life and just be done with it. I no longer believe everything happens for a reason. What reason could there possibly be for Rich's life to end so abruptly? What reason could there be for two babies to be fatherless? Madi told me the other day she wanted to give daddy a hug. I told her we could hug each other and send it to heaven for him. This is not the way it's supposed to be. I'll never believe that. I'm not really bitter or angry - just changed.

The smallest tasks are grueling for me. It is still difficult to go to the bank or post office or even taking out the trash. It's a good thing Madi is going on the potty lately. However, I can finally make it through the grocery store without falling apart. Tonight I was in line at the bank, which is in Giant Eagle, and the woman in front of me was having a difficult time with her transaction. I wasn't really paying attention and I really didn't care when an old lady got in line behind me. She was in line for all of 3 minutes before she started sighing heavily and mumbling under her breath. She was shifting her weight and crossing her arms. She kept saying, "Oh my God, this is ridiculous". I was so annoyed by her. It took everything I had not to turn to her and scream, "Things could be worse!!" Rich and I just talked about people like this in line near us - how absurd they are. And is waiting in line at a busy store really so dreadful.

Last Monday I did go to the Intensive Outpatient Therapy clinic through UPMC. It is in Oakland - in Bellefield Towers. Monday was really just a bunch of paper work to register. I filled out the usual insurance forms and surveys that try to determine the status of my mental health. This probably took about and hour and then I met with a nurse. She explained the program to me. I would be placed in a group therapy session which met three times a week. Then I would meet with a psychologist once a week and then a psychiatrist once every other week. She assured me they could help me with my grief. I liked her so I believed her. I showed her Rich's website. She read the Post-Gazette obituary and told me she loved the Affordable Floors. This made me like her a little more. I guess I felt maybe she understood how talented Rich was and on some level could appreciate my loss.

My first and last group meeting was on Wednesday. The women in the group were genuine and I'm sure their pain was real; however this group didn't come close to meeting my needs. The composite of the group included women who were court ordered there because of domestic violence, women who were bipolar, women who had anger management issues, women with mood disorders and women who didn't know how to say no to people who took advantage of them. At first I was slightly judgmental. I felt these women had self inflicted pain. I was sitting there cringing. Then I thought, maybe they do, but pain and stress are devastating - no matter what the cause. If I had Rich coupled with a mood disorder, I would still be miserable. Even worse, I would probably make him and our children miserable too.

I could read the same book the facilitator read and lead this group myself! Seriously - I could! They talked about interpersonal skills on that day - how to be respectful and effective in relationships. They spoke of regulating their emotions - understanding them and letting go of or changing painful emotions. I only stayed until the break and went back to the nurse and told her how I felt about the group. She agreed it wasn't for me, but encouraged me to keep my psych appointment later that afternoon. So, I did.
I met with a woman psychiatrist at 1:00pm. I explained my situation to her. She also agreed this group could not meet my needs. She apologized for the drama I went through at Western Psych and she was appalled that a doctor told me I shouldn't remarry. She actually told me she didn't even think I needed a psychiatrist. She said I was handling traumatic grief as well as anyone could. I explained to her my fear of postpartum depression. This was not an issue when Madi was born, but I'm afraid it could be with Ethan's delivery. She said in that case, I should keep in touch with one to make sure I have the medication I might need. She told me she would try to find me someone closer to the North Hills and contact me with the information. She also said she would look into the traumatic grief program that runs on the 7th floor to see if I qualify for anything they might offer. It's been a week, but no one has contacted me, yet.

When we were through, I waited on a bench near the front entrance for my sister to pick me up. I began to cry. This obviously isn't unusual for me anymore. Then a student of mine came through the door with his case worker. He was there for an appointment. When he saw me a sweet smile washed across his face and he excitedly said, "Hi, Ms. Deni". I looked up and smiled and said hello. When he realized I was crying, he looked horrified and kept asking me why I was so sad. I couldn't speak I just smiled and nodded my head as if to say, "I'm okay". I felt guilty for making him feel bad. I just need time to get through this. I need to stop thinking about Rich when he was sick. I need to focus on and remember all the beautiful moments we had together. I need to stop feeling guilty that I am here and he is not. I need to believe that one day I'll feel better. I need to believe Madi and Ethan will be okay with just me as the parent. I need to accept what happened and believe it was no one's fault. I need to rejoin life and know I can't disappear or waste away no matter how badly I want to. I need to realize what it is I'm here to learn and accomplish. I need to deliver this baby - my back hurts...