I live very very close to a Starbucks that has a drive-thru. When I was pregnant with Lillian, I would go through the drive-thru every morning and grab a "Venti, unsweetened, iced green tea", and in the winter it was a hot tea. Almost every time I would go through I got the exact same guy. His name is Bryan. "Bryan with a Y" is what I'd say in my head every time I'd see him, and I'd wonder if we'd ever be comfortable enough with each other for me to drive up and say "Good morning Bryan with a Y". If I had to guess, I'd say he was about 32-35 years old, (around my husband's age). He's got a very sweet, caring disposition, and we've chatted before about his two kids and his wife, a conversation that came about once my belly really began to pop out, and I would make funny references to it, "She likes her green tea", "won't be long now", and "soon my order will change to a triple shot vanilla latte since sleeping is soon to be non-existant". He'd laugh, say he and his wife had just gone through that same rough patch with their youngest, and I specifically remember him, that day say to me "it's so worth it though." He'd always ask me what I was listening to on my way to work. Together we jammed out to Little Red Corvette, I Would Die 4 U and Let's Go Crazy, the week that Prince died, and together we paid homage and it was really fun to watch him and his coworkers, dancing and lip-synching in the drive-thru window each morning that week. One morning of that week, I randomly said to him "I have the same birthday as Prince. June 7", and he said "when is her birthday supposed to be", (referring to my belly), I said "July 27th is the projection, but I have a feeling it won't be until we're well into August. He raised his eyebrows, "August is a great month for birthdays, Aug. 16th!" We high fived that morning.
I love my Starbucks. I love the relationship I've built with Bryan With A Y, and when he's not working, there's Sarah and Mia, both in school at Columbia College (one of my Alma Maters). After we lost our Lily, I had this very deep and very pronounced fear of going to public places and businesses that knew I was pregnant, and the last time they saw me, I had this big, jolly baby belly, and likely an even jollier disposition because I was probably the happiest pregnant lady you'd ever meet. I was scared of "How is the baby?" I was scared of the face everyone makes that finds out for the first time. I was scared of the weird switch that happens, when the mother of the loss has to then comfort the one she's informing that her baby has died. All of a sudden, you're hugging them to console them because they feel terrible they said anything, (but how would they know?), and then alternately they're looking at you with the most sorrowful eyes and expressions. It's a very very hard thing to navigate, and it took me going to various places with my husband there to support me, and either going through that interaction together or finding out that nobody would say a thing to us about "the baby", and not necessarily because they suspected something was wrong, but because they just didn't think to ask. I was so so grateful when that would happen.
I did not want that type of interaction with Bryan With A Y. I even thought that maybe he didn't work there anymore and the drive-thru window person would be a stranger. That'd be better than having to see Bryan With A Y's expression when I told him that Lillian didn't make it.
I went to Starbucks this week. I had not been back to my Starbucks in the morning in almost 10 months.
Bryan With A Y was totally there.
I drove up, he smiled and said "you know, I could never forget the lady with the green car who gets the green tea." I honestly almost started crying happy tears. I could have jumped out right then and there and hugged him. He didn't ask me how the baby was, he didn't say "where have you been" and he didn't do or say any of the things I was scared he'd say. There were no pitiful expressions, shocked eyes, apologies for our loss. He was just my same ol' Bryan With A Y, and I was just the lady with the green car who loves green tea.
I realized that after a trauma such as this, that the parents worry so much about "what ifs", and create scenarios that are absolutely horrible in their minds about what might happen. The reason we do this, the reason this just happens to parents of loss, is because the most horrible thing did happen, so how could all of the most horrible things also not happen? Well sometimes they don't. Sometimes, our worries are much greater than what actually ends up happening. To me, that realization is progress in healing. I am not at all close to being "over" Lillian's loss, I know I will never be, but today I'm not as afraid as I used to be right after she passed away. Don't get me wrong, I still ache for her, I still dream about her, I still remember what the top of her head smelled like, I'm still pissed as hell; but there ARE things that I can do now that I couldn't do before and sometimes, those things are as simple as going through the drive-thru at Starbucks.
