Sometimes, lunch breaks are better than others.
Let’s face it, sometimes there’s cake in the staffroom. Who doesn’t need a sliver of cake with a slab of sugary icing to get them back in the game for three more hours of boogers and untied shoes and pinch fights and finger paint in kindergarten?
Sometimes you find yourself lingering over the last remaining moments of your break before the horde comes back in from recess. Sometimes you find yourself enjoying a sweet, free, piece of cake. Jackpot.
Sometimes, that cake is pink and blue.
Sometimes, the cake has the remnants of the word “congratulations” on it.
Sometimes the cake is leftover from your coworker’s baby shower on the weekend.
Sometimes, you and your coworker have the same due date.
But sometimes, your baby doesn’t live.
Sometimes you wonder if this cake wouldn’t have had your name on it too, had a tiny heart just kept beating. Sometimes this leads to wondering what size of maternity clothes you’d be wearing now, had a tiny child just kept growing. Sometimes, you wonder if you’d be counting down the days to your own maternity leave if a tiny life had just kept on living.
Sometimes, you think, thoughts like this are redundant. Sometimes you feel like you’ve beaten this trigger into the ground. Sometimes you shove down the thoughts that landslide upon you: will this ever end? Will you ever feel content? Will you ever feel control? Will it always hurt? What if things were different? Sometimes you block out the memories you didn’t get to make yet; rocking your child to sleep, wakeful nights, exhaustion, tiny feet learning to step. Sometimes you try to ignore the memories you will make; panicking the next time you visit the doctor, filling in the ‘previous pregnancies’ slot on medical forms, worrying week in and week out with a future pregnancy, the sting in your heart as your would be due date approaches next month.
Sometimes,you’ll just take this dessert as another tiny victory over your emotions.
Sometimes, you embrace the last few minutes of freedom before class begins again. Sometimes, you just eat some damn cake.