Happy Tears

So my friend T had her baby on Saturday.  A little boy.  I cried as I read her email.  She and I would have been due about the same time (my due date is next Thursday, the 7th).  But I wasn’t crying out of sadness for what she has and I don’t.  I was crying because T and her husband A have lost two babies already – tears of relief you might say.  They lost one little girl at 25 weeks and another little girl at around 30 weeks.  T has been a huge help to me in trying to recover from losing the boys.  The difference between her and I is that whatever causes her to lose her babies only causes her to lose the girls and it reoccurs.  It’s more than likely a genetic issue although she has never shared with me exactly what it is, it’s really none of my business.  She has a little boy already and now, another little boy but it is unlikely that she will be able to have a little girl because of whatever this is.  I, on the other hand, lost my boys due to something that will likely not reoccur  – partly because they were identical twins and partly due to an unfortunate circumstances which occurred from conception.  I can get pregnant and proceed through the pregnancy safe in the knowledge that more than likely, my baby will be born screaming (now you are crazy if you think I won’t be worried every second of every minute of every day).  T didn’t have that reassurance.  She just took a leap of faith that this time, this baby would be born alive.  I am taking her cue and taking that same leap of faith, hopeful that I will be a mommy again soon.

So my tears for T were very happy tears.  Baby L made it to be born screaming to a wonderful mommy and family.

Welcome Baby L, you are very, very welcomed.

Deafening Silence

If you have lost a baby, you know immediately what I am talking about.  It either happens right when you lose the baby or about 4 to 6 weeks later.  People either immediately have no idea what to say to you and are in as much shock as you are that they simply don’t say anything, it’s uncomfortable, they don’t want to deal and they just walk away from you.  Or about a month later, people just stop wanting to talk about it with you.  The people closest to you – the best people – just break down and sob with you. 

And really, it’s not their fault.  I said to my neighbor (her baby was 1 week old when I lost Baby B and she had been hiding from me as not to upset me), “look, I know you don’t know what to say.  I don’t know what to tell you say to me.  Just hold me and tell me it will be okay and just listen to me cry.”  And she did.

For the most part, that’s what most people have done.  My friend Michelle has gotten her fair share of sobbing phone calls.  I save the particularly bad days for her – isn’t she lucky?  She also sent the first email telling people that we were at the hospital.  Kelly, Gretchen and Robin have been my in-person-local-hand-holding rocks.  I cried through an entire lunch with them.  Of course, I didn’t stop eating my Chef salad while I cried – dude, I am hardcore when it comes to food.  Freda gets the “why me?,” “help me write a blog so I can get some of this anger out,” “I will have a baby again, right?” and “can you make me a box for my baby book, booties and picture” emails.  Cousin Jennifer gets the “I think I am losing my mind” emails.  The “please tell me that I am not crazy because I can’t stop this pain in my heart” emails.  And then there is Frankie.  Sweet Frankie, who left me a sobbing message several days after she found out about my boys.  Sweet Frankie, who I didn’t want to tell because I knew her heart would break for me and I wanted to spare her that pain (read her blog about finding out about the boys www.lilactreedelights.blogspot.com ).* 

But see I am selfish and lonely and that’s why I told her.  The lonely part has been because people’s memories have faded.  I’m still sad and I am still angry.  I think of my boys from the minute I get up to the minute I fall asleep.  But for most people, this is sooooo last month (that was a joke).  And it’s not their fault, it’s not.  I’m not angry with anyone.  It’s a self defense mechanism and I get that.  No one wants to talk to the girl with the dead babies about the dead babies.  It’s just really lonely. 

And please don’t get the impression that I can’t talk to the hubby because I can.  However, he needs to grieve in his own way, on his own terms.  We talk, we cry but even he will tell you that they didn’t live in him for 4 months and 5 months so it’s different for him.  He is dealing with a lot of helplessness because he couldn’t fix the boys and my crying doesn’t help him with that because then he wants to fix me.

And I am selfish because I really need people like Michelle, Kelly, Gretchen, Robin, Freda, Cousin Jennifer and Frankie because I cannot do this alone.  I need these people to take me to lunch, take me to yoga, take me to get pedicures.  I need people who call me and say, “how are you?” and really want to know that today, I can’t stop crying.  That today, I cried so hard in the shower that I threw up.  I need those people in my life right now.

Here is my point.  These are the friends who make up for the people who found out about my boys but never said a word.  It was hard to tell people what happened.  I cried during every email and every message.  The “telling people” process took a terrible toll on my husband because he wouldn’t let me deal with a lot of it.  And there are people, family members even, who still 4 months later, STILL have never called or sent a card -nothing. 

My father-in-law is one person that I am not afraid to call out.  His actions have been unforgivable.  This is the very definition of “deafening silence.”  His silence has been so loud that it threatens to drown out the people who have done so much for us.  It’s so painful to me that he just didn’t say ANYTHING.  Not even the wrong thing, he just doesn’t seem to care enough to say anything.  And that he would hurt my husband like that.  My kind, sweet, loving, wonderful husband.  How dare he do that to him?  My father flew across the country to hold our hand when we lost Baby A and hubby’s father can’t even call his son.  How could he do this to him?  I won’t let the callous actions of someone like him take away from all the love and support that Husband and I have received.  I won’t let him do that.

So in case I don’t say it enough, I really appreciate you, my friends.  I love you.  I thank you.  I  know I can be needy but please, stick with me, I will be better soon.  You don’t have to say any magic words, just be there.

*There are a host of other people who have cried with me and I am grateful for those people even if they are not named here – all my Sigma Kappa girls, Leah, Auntie Gennie and Carl, the women from RHG, Aaron, the Stealth Volunteers….