It would be a lot easier if everyone read my blog. I've given our news to as many friends as possible via email, and my mother and Jeff's have mostly told family members for us. That still leaves neighbors, teachers and parents at the kids' schools, even my dental hygienist. I dread each and every conversation. They don't know what to say to me and I don't know what to say to them.
More than that, having to say it means having to believe it, just a little more, each time.
I'm thankful we don't have a nursery to empty. Eventually I'll have to decide whether to give away the baby clothes and gear I've saved, but for now all that can stay safely tucked away. The last thing I want to do right now is wear maternity clothes, but neither do I want to pack them up, spending another hour or two confronting the fact that I don't need them.
Thank you all for your supportive comments and e-mails. We are getting along as best we can. The small-townness of Mayberry helps; word gets around and soon our refrigerator and freezer are overflowing. They don't bring our baby back, but these loving, caring gestures help us eat and sleep and breathe and sometimes even smile.
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24 comments:
Those conversations with all the people who know---from the milkman to your relatives---are not easy. It's very awkward and that terrible pit in your stomach that you get when you see them sucks. I don't think there is any need to make any decisions right now as it pertains to the clothes and the baby gear. All that can wait once you've healed emotionally. The day will come when you know what to do with them. Time will heal.
Oh, MM. I wish there was so much more I could do for you and your family. Sending you tons of hugs.
I can't imagine how hard. Oof.
Do you know about Glow In The Woods? (http://www.glowinthewoods.com/) - it might be something you'd like to check out. Then again, I don't know.
I'm one of those people that never know what to say or do when bad things happen. So I'll just say I'm so sorry this happened.
The telling is awful, awful, awful, and that's if everything about the conversation goes well. I think that's one of the things that makes a second or third trimester miscarriage so specially terrible, having it happen after you've started to show, after everyone already knows that you are, were, pregnant. All those awkward conversations where the recipient of the news tries to find something to say, and half the time comes up with something well-meaning but utterly hurtful. When I walked this road, I did my best not to hold a grudge against everyone who offered a "comforting" thought that felt like another knife in my chest, but it was hard. The telling was even one of the reasons that made me decide to finally end my friendship with my flaky then-best-friend. I'd asked her to spread the news among our friends, but she didn't even tell her housemates -- very uncomfortable the first time I showed up at a party and had dozens of cheery buddies asking me about my pregnancy. (Including, I'm not kidding, the gem "where's your belly?") But on the other hand, I will never forget the kindness that many of my friends offered me, the friends who called and sent flowers and treated it as a real loss.
I wish I could lift this burden from you, or at least shield you from the worst of the "comforts."
I really am so sorry for what you are going through. There are no words. Just time. But the grief is awful.
Yep. The so-called "comforting" words.
The morning after we lost our baby, I called my boss to tell her that I would be out of work for the next 2 days & she actually said, "Well, maybe that's your body trying to tell you something?? You *are* 40 years old!" Yeah, the same boss who's sister lost 4 babies, two of which they chose to terminate due to "genetic anomalies".
The only thing that helped to comfort me were the simple, silent hugs that my family and friends lavished on me.
It sucks. It truly sucks and I'm so very sorry that it happened to you.
I can't imagine having to go through that. I wish there was a magic word to make it all better, but there is only time. I am sorry for your loss, I wish I could do more.
Surrounding you with love right now.
Sending you all my love.
I get it. As hard as it seems for them to figure out what to say to you, it's twice as hard for you. I get it.
Leave the decisions for awhile. The emotional healing needs to begin before you can do anything like that. It took me awhile to get to that point.
We're still all thinking of you. I'll spare you endless platitudes and just leave you with some more ((HUGS))
I'm so sorry. How awful. And I'm sorry to be late with my condolences; I've been on a bit of a blog-reading hiatus of late for various reasons, or I'd have been here earlier with my cyberhugs.
There really are no words, are there?
Hugs...
Untelling is hard. It's all hard.
(((bear hugs)))
((HUGS)), my dear. Q-ster would call them Force Hugs, since I can't actually touch you from here. Hope that brings you a tiny smile for a moment. Thinking of you.
Oh, oh, I'm sorry! I'm so sorry. Oh, sigh. I know how hard you fought for that baby. What a year you've had! Your daughter in the hospital, and leaving your job, and now this... May the going get easier.
Love to you. Lots and lots of love.
oh shit. oh Mayberry. i'm just catching up, and i am so, so sorry. your boy. your wee boy. tears, friend.
the untelling is so hard, exposing all that raw hurt, that love, that empty space. and all there is to say in return is, "oh, how that sucks" and "you are loved" and i send both your way tonight along with the caveat that if you ever want to tell us more, need to talk about your boy...i listen good.
and glowinthewoods.com, like Magpie said. just if you want.
I've thought of you and yours often over the past several days. You all remain in the "upper three" of my prayer list each night. I am not much of a hugger. And we have never met. But I would definitely hug you very tight right now.
Oh my friend, I have been on vacation and just now read the news. I am so sorry. My thoughts and prayers are with you and your family.
I had two miscarriages after Sassy. Each were different and both were painful on many, many levels. God has a plan, and we have to believe that.
It's the only way to make it through the day.
I'm so sorry...
I'm glad your getting the support you need from friends in town.
{{hugs}}
I just read your comment on PH and want to say how very, very sorry I am. Wishing you and your family all the best.
First let me say, how sorry I am that I have disconnected from the blog world long enough to break down in tears reading your news.
The desire to just wish everyone already knew is a familiar feeling for me. I was pregnant right before Gianina and right before Luke. I had a relative say, Well no one in OUR family has ever lost a baby! Then when I got pregnant again right after, everyone said, "well don't tell anyone... because if it happens again... you'll have to tell everyone again!" That infuriated me because I refused to treat my pregnancies with G and Luke like they might not make it! All I can say and you don't have to respond to me is, I am sorry for your families sadness and your heartache.
On another note... I couldn't stop laughing at Opies drawing! Cheekbones? hysterical! They have grown so much! give them hugs from us!
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