Last weekend I visited my best friend and her two week old son. I thought it would be difficult for me, to hold a tiny little baby, but it was natural. I wasn't thinking of my boys as I held Oliver - I was thinking about Oliver. He's cute and tiny and sweet. He smells of formula. He is not John and he is not Drew.
He is not what I am missing. He doesn't even represent what I am missing right now. That's how deep and soul-touching my grief is...my boys are an independent joy and an independent hurt, they are feelings untouched by things around me. It can't get better and it can't get worse, even when I'm holding a newborn baby boy. I believe I have found the middle ground in this grief of mine, though I am still affronted by people who like to tell me (unsolicited, of course) that "Third Time's A Charm" and "Well, this one is just meant to be, I guess."
Why do people think that of all the things to say to a BabyLoss Mama, saying that their dead children simply "weren't meant to be" is a good conversation starter? I can think of a million things to say - even simply, "How are you?" before launching into a speech about things being "better off" or "not my fate."
My dear mother-in-law, who is very sweet and well-meaning, has decided to throw me a baby shower. (Excuse me while I take a shaky breath here).
She would not be deterred. She insisted that I register for gifts and choose bedding and bibs. She has spent weeks planning and changing and planning the menu and the guest list. She has been so darn nice about everything. Emily is equally excited about the party.
I have a panic attack every time I think of going to this shower.
Where my mother in law sees a room full of people looking to celebrate me and the baby, I see a room full of pity head tilts, questions about whether "this one feels different," and comments about "the trouble."
Why must it be so hard to celebrate my rainbow baby? I think it's because Clark wasn't supposed to be my rainbow baby - Drew was. I live a life that isn't supposed to be - and celebrating anything that IS supposed to be feels like a fool's roulette.
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