In his post Lying, Elm City Dad explores the strange reality of trudging along through a relatively unaware world after the heart-explosion of babyloss. As he notes, what's even stranger than constructing this outward-facing facade of normalcy? The getting accustomed to it, this split-personality outfit we zip and button onto ourselves for the purpose of ordinary days.

I have spent my life trying to be genuine, honest, direct, truthful. But now I am living a lie. Suddenly I find myself deceptive, evasive, calculating and misleading. It is not out of malice, though, nor for personal gain. Unless, of course, you count ‘personal gain’ as trying to avoid being in pain all the time. If so, then yes. I am lying to avoid pain. Lying to myself, to my wife, to the World, to anyone that asks.

I am lying when I say I’m fine. There is a low-grade terror that burbles in the background of my life, now. It is that oh-shit oh-shit oh-shit cascade that precedes moments of near disaster.

That feeling is constant, now.

The scary thing is, I’m getting used to it...