today was ok. it wasn't as hard getting out of bed as i thought it might be. i didn't resent it as much as i expected.
it was harder walking into my building than i thought it would be, but still, it wasn't too bad.
i'd arranged to go and see my line manager before i did anything else. that helped, to be able to go and tell someone who understood that it was really, really weird. to walk into the building, to be sitting in her office again, when the last time i did so it was to do my New and Expectant Mother Risk Assessment.
i had arranged to sit in a different office too - i'm usually based in reception, and most people who come in or out of the building look into our office and usually make eye contact with me. that would be way too exhausting, so i'm sitting in a different office where there is a spare desk and people who support me. that has really helped too.
i bought a coffee on the way in too as suggested by caholmes; i didn't need it in the event, but it did kinda feel like a shield, just in case, and it helped. also, coffee=good any day.
all i really did was get logged in and read through my emails (265 unread - which didn't seem like many for being off 2.5 months) and fill in my flexi form. everyone has been good about letting me build up gently. tomorrow i'll put out feelers; a few things have moved around in the meantime, a few things are preparing to change. i'll try and get to grips with it all.
it felt surreal, being in work. everyone was fine, people were glad to see me, and everything. but it felt very surreal. i was very aware of not being pregnant, in a way i haven't really been since the initial aftermath. i felt very aware of how i should be six months pregnant. not returning to work after two and a half months off sick.
it felt almost like i was dreaming.
(god. if only i was.)
one of my colleagues has been off work since her husband suddenly died in october (strangely enough, only a few days before i told people in work about the baby). she returned last week (phased return also).
i went along to see her before i left at lunchtime. we didn't talk about our respective bereavements; i think both of us are a bit scared that if one of us shows even the slightest sign of weakness, we will both end up in tears. but she said something that really resonated with me.
she said that everything feels different, even though it's really the same.
and god, yes, she's right. everything does feel different. and it's weird, knowing that it's us who have changed.