A blog about babies: the babies I lost, the babies I never had, the baby who made me a Mama.

Tuesday, March 9, 2010

Out of the Frying Pan, Into the Fire; or, Universe, Please Stop Sucker Punching Me

I gave you the overlong family history last weekend for a few reasons (see, there's always a rationale behind what I say or do). Not only to prepare you (and me) for my no-doubt inevitable break down when Niece #2 makes her appearance in this story, but also to establish the parameters of that relationship before delving into the particulars.

We had dinner with J and S and Baby #1 on Sunday night in New Jersey. And the whole time I was typing out the chronicle of ten years of in-law-hood, I was dreading that dinner. Dreading seeing my sister-in-law with a nine-months pregnant belly. Dreading the pang of longing on watching Lawyer Guy play with his niece. Dreading my emotional volatility.

And...it was fine. I was fine. I held it together. I even managed to ask S a few questions about how she was feeling and when she was taking her maternity leave and to contribute one or two general comments about the upcoming new arrival. I'm pretty sure they think my avoiding alcohol due to Lent was a cover-up (I'm Not Pregnant! I wanted to blurt out, but didn't). But other than that, everything was copacetic. I didn't even cry on the car ride home. I didn't even want to cry!

Naturally, my stellar karma couldn't let me enjoy a moment of unselfish maturity and rational acceptance for, oh, twenty-four hours without reminding me that I'm pathetic, envious, sad, and unstable.

I had dinner last night with a college friend who was in town for work (leaving her 1-year-old daughter back in Miami with her husband). There were two other friends-of-the-friend at dinner, both of whom I'd met before.

And guess what? One of them is five months pregnant! And when's she due? July, two weeks after my EDD with the m&m.

Fun. Fucking. Times.

When friend and preggo started chatting about big bellies vs. big boobs and live web-caming the birth, I jumped in. Because hey, I was pregnant! And my boobs grew really big in only two months! Not as fun a story when there's no baby at the end of it, but I can (over)share, too.

And honestly, the dinner was okay. Yeah, I revealed my miscarriage history to two virtual strangers at a casual fun dinner (I'm guessing Miami friend was less than thrilled about that, though she didn't say anything), which makes me a Debbie Downer extraordinaire, but I hustled along and smiled and told funny stories and gossiped about old sorority sisters and didn't cry once.

Until last night in the shower, choking back sobs as I smacked the white tiles, repeating to myself over and over, "I can't believe I'm still here. I can't believe I'm still crying in the shower after a fucking year."

And this morning in the grocery store parking lot, listening to Debussy on the radio and sheltering my wet, snotty face behind big sunglasses, the steering wheel, and my folded arms.

What more do you want me to learn, God? I'm trying so hard to be strong and kind and hopeful, but you keep making this so difficult. I want to believe there's a plan. I want to believe that you have something wonderful in store for me. So, for the love of yourself, STOP TORTURING ME ALREADY!

The kicker? The waitress handed out those fortune-telling fish at the end of dinner. You know, the little red plastic fish-shaped disks that contort in the heat of your palm, indicating your emotions.

My fish's head moved. Which means: "Jealousy."

I told them mine was "In love."


  1. I'm glad the dinner with S was not as awful as expected. But I'm sorry you had to face another pregnant person so soon, and that it happened to be one who nicely illustrated what you SHOULD have been experiencing. Maybe you're having some anniversary misery as well? It's been quite a crap year for you... I don't know what God will tell you, but maybe clinging to your good prognosis will help. You have every reason to believe you will get pregnant again soon, and you will have a successful pregnancy.

    P.S. Those fortune teller fish *always* say jealousy for me. I'm not sure they are 100% accurate...

  2. Sorry, that sucks. But well done on holding it all together in front of people, that is hard.

  3. I feel like everything you have said in this post about feeling sad, being jealous and wondering when your lesson will be over are exactly how I feel. You are definitely not alone, just way better than I am at expressing your feelings in writing than I am. Hang in there!!

  4. I know it's hard. I cried in the shower more times than I can count. And in my car. And in grocery stores. And. . . everywhere.

    You'll get to the smiles, I promise. But I know that doesn't make the tears any easier right now.

  5. So sorry hun, but I am so proud of you for making it through dinner. Especially after getting bombarded with preggo news, that is the worst!!! I so feel your pain, and crying in the shower is totally my go to spot. It's like I've been patient, I've tried to justify how this waiting can be a good thing, and still nothing. It's so frustrating. But we just have to keep believing good things ARE coming our way. And the waiting will all be worth it!!

  6. Shower, totally. And car. And on the beach at sunset. The little shore birds are quite comforting at those moments in a way that shower tiles just can't be. :)

    It doesn't seem real that this is happening (really? I am really, actually in hell and no one can see it? Or can they?), but I know it will ultimately make us better parents. It may be a test, but definitely not a punishment.

    I am proud of you for speaking up. How did it go? Did they fear your miscarriage cooties? Or did they just assume, based on your brave performance, that miscarriage must not be so tragic after all?(imagine me making a dry, extremely bitter 'ha!' sound, following that last part)

  7. I'm sorry you're feeling this way. I honestly could have written this post myself. The situations are different (or backstory, I guess) but I always feel like a Debbie Downer and things are always smacking me in the face. You aren't alone.

    I don't konw what else there is to learn either. I've learned enough and also agree that the torture can stop.


  8. We've all had those crying-in-the-shower moments. They suck.
    I really think things are going to get brighter - just hang on a bit longer!

  9. Sorry about the rough dinner. I don't think you overshared at all. In fact, you probably made the others that much more appreciative of what they have. Hang in there, hoping tomorrow is a bit brighter.

  10. It's not over-sharing... it's your life! I am so proud of you for being able to share such a heartbreaking experience with others. When the topic of pregnancy comes up, you have every right to contribute.

    Like PP's, I think you've learned enough!! It's your time!!