My dearest friend just gave birth to her... second son, third living child, fifth baby. It was so sweet to see her happy and full of life. Kissing his little cheeks and letting him root on her nose. It is so perfect. She is such a good friend, she never judges my postion on anything, or my struggles, she just supports me and seems to float on through life enjoying the ride, most of the time:)
It was about 2 months after David died that she miscarried at around 10 or 12 weeks, if I remember correctly. I walked in after work one day, I was living in her house, if you'd call it living...a better description is existing, anyway I walked in so excited to find out about her prenatal appointment, maybe she was 8 weeks, I don't even know I guess, that whole year was a blur. Either way, I said, 'How is that little baby, did you hear the heartbeat', her response was so difficult for me, the news was hard yes, but the manner of her response was so unexpected, 'I didn't hear it, there isn't one and please don't cry about it because I've already cried about it and I don't want to anymore', she was belly-down on the sofa staring ahead at the TV while I ran into the kids room to try and stop the wildfire that had just consumed my heart.
I'm a big 'a loss is a loss' kind of bereaved parent, I don't know the journey of pregnancy loss, or the pain of never meeting my tiny baby before they return to God, but I know what it's like to miss first birthdays and never hear 'mama' from my child's mouth... any parent of loss knows these all the same, so the whole thing left me heartbroken, on top of heartbreak. Plus, I barely had the energy to wake up and take care of C, how was I to comfort my friend, when she clearly had taken the whole thing and buried it deep inside? It was over that day and time passed with no talk of it.
Fast forward 6 months to the following July, My friend had conceived again and was about 4 or 5 weeks I think, when I called to tell her that Sang and I had just found out we were pregnant, she was the first call I made after I came to terms with the fact that David wouldn't be my last, as I had planned it to be, and her words were so painful, 'Guess what, Sang and I are expecting... we get to be pregnant together!!' she was in NY or West VA or somewhere, I know she was away because I would have driven straight to her house otherwise, like I did with David. She was quiet and calm, not like her when I tell her babies are coming, and said 'I don't know about that, I'm spotting' we got off the phone and she miscarried within a day or two. Again, no talk of lost futures or broken Mommies.
She had a perfect little boy the following year and her newest little one was born almost a week ago. Still no talk of her second or third, they don't have names and we don't ever talk about them, I don't even know how she feels about that whole year of her life. I don't know if she is plagued inside by how quickly those times passed and how little attention was devoted to her losses, I don't know if she sees them as losses at all, I can say honestly that I don't know if she even thinks of them as babies and not just pregnancies... all I do know is that she has one more than me, she has 5. Three here with her and two waiting for her in heaven, things like this make me feel crazy, is it even normal to grieve for other people?
When I look at her with her children I always think of those two pregnancies and what they were to me, how her babies, here and gone, help me everyday to see that life does go on and loss goes on and love goes on and Mommies go on and on and on...
Welcome Baby A.R., you're a lucky little guy to have the Mommy you do, you'll never have to question her strength, I sure don't.
Wednesday, June 10, 2009
Thursday, June 4, 2009
He would be about the same age...
I often distance myself now from 4 year old's, it was once 3 year olds and before that, 2 year olds... it's tough being uneasy around innocent children because they are the age David 'would be'. I only knew 3 or 4 people that had babies about the same time and I rarely, if never, see them or their children. Not for that reason, just because our lives took different paths. I was out this weekend and ran into a old co-worker that had a little girl the same time I had David, we were out around the same time giving birth.
I remember after David died our desks were together, our backs to one another but we shared an office space. Her daughter's pictures would change with the seasons, her daughter near flowers in the spring, in the pool at summer, her first birthday blowing out candles and so on... my son's pictures stayed the same... 6 months old... in late fall. They never changed, they never moved and even though C grew, I never changed his pictures out either because I knew I couldn't change David's... so C stayed 3 and 1 month for about a year and a half.
I would sob and read the bible at my desk, I would keep things of David's on my desk and journal freely when I felt like it. My desk quickly became a memorial after I returned to work. I never cared about the girl behind me and what she made of the whole thing until one day she leaned over my desk and said, "you have to stop crying and move on, you're young and you'll have more, you have to move on and take all these pictures down, it's hard for me to look at them".
I was so heartbroken, her pictures were the hard ones to look at, her coming in everyday and being fine and listening to her talk all day about what Blain was doing was what was really difficult. Did she think it would be easier for a mother to just forget her child existed and move forward... from then I called David 'my goldfish' when talking about him in front of her. She thought of him as such, just something I had that died... so flush it down the toilet, get over it and get a new one already.
I have never seen her since I left that job in February of 2007 so it's been about 2 and half years. Her daughter was with her, she was in a dress, running around with no care of who I was or why I was talking to her mother. She looked sweet and whimsical, happy and kind. I thought- 'Gosh, that's how old David would be'. David would be here beside me running into her and he wouldn't care who she was or why I was talking to her, he would be tall and talking and kind and happy. He would be as big as her daughter and if he was here I might not hate this woman as much as I do and I might not want so badly to run away and wish I had never met her.
I felt the pain rushing in the second I saw her and I thought nothing could hurt more than remembering how mean she had been, then I looked down at her beautiful daughter and I stood... corrected.
I remember after David died our desks were together, our backs to one another but we shared an office space. Her daughter's pictures would change with the seasons, her daughter near flowers in the spring, in the pool at summer, her first birthday blowing out candles and so on... my son's pictures stayed the same... 6 months old... in late fall. They never changed, they never moved and even though C grew, I never changed his pictures out either because I knew I couldn't change David's... so C stayed 3 and 1 month for about a year and a half.
I would sob and read the bible at my desk, I would keep things of David's on my desk and journal freely when I felt like it. My desk quickly became a memorial after I returned to work. I never cared about the girl behind me and what she made of the whole thing until one day she leaned over my desk and said, "you have to stop crying and move on, you're young and you'll have more, you have to move on and take all these pictures down, it's hard for me to look at them".
I was so heartbroken, her pictures were the hard ones to look at, her coming in everyday and being fine and listening to her talk all day about what Blain was doing was what was really difficult. Did she think it would be easier for a mother to just forget her child existed and move forward... from then I called David 'my goldfish' when talking about him in front of her. She thought of him as such, just something I had that died... so flush it down the toilet, get over it and get a new one already.
I have never seen her since I left that job in February of 2007 so it's been about 2 and half years. Her daughter was with her, she was in a dress, running around with no care of who I was or why I was talking to her mother. She looked sweet and whimsical, happy and kind. I thought- 'Gosh, that's how old David would be'. David would be here beside me running into her and he wouldn't care who she was or why I was talking to her, he would be tall and talking and kind and happy. He would be as big as her daughter and if he was here I might not hate this woman as much as I do and I might not want so badly to run away and wish I had never met her.
I felt the pain rushing in the second I saw her and I thought nothing could hurt more than remembering how mean she had been, then I looked down at her beautiful daughter and I stood... corrected.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)