The World of Maybe
I'm working on becoming a La Leche League leader this year. It's brought me together with some amazing women. One woman, L, announced her pregnancy and due date similar to mine before my loss.
I was so happy and excited for her! We would be "twinners" and both working on leadership. Our babies would be of similar age and play together at meetings. L is a loving, caring, personable woman that I want to be like when I grow up.
Now, after the loss of precious Michael, I find it so hard to be happy for her. So hard to see her and be near her. I know that they tried very hard to have this second child. I know that they suffered a miscarriage much like mine with great heartbreak. I know how lucky she feels to be carrying her new child with no problems indicated. And I wouldn't wish her bad for the whole world.
But I feel so jealous. Why does God like her better, to allow her to have her baby and take mine? Why do I have to like her so much, to hurt so much? Why did God take my baby?
I see her all the time, when before I didn't see her often. L attends my church, our mutual La Leche League meetings and Leader Applicant meetings, the same community outings as we do. And it hurts so much it BURNS. I find myself staring at her belly. I feel so rude to do it, but I can't draw my eyes away. I know she understands and feels sorry for me, but that doesn't bring my son back.
So, maybe next month I'll attend the LLL meeting and be able to say that I'm pregnant again! Maybe my body will kick in and cycle normal again before the next meeting. Maybe I'm making a dumb choice, trying to be a leader right now. Maybe the tears won't roll down my face every time I face this blog. Maybe my laughing at funny things won't turn into sobbing next month. Maybe I won't be so mad at God next month.
Maybe next month it won't hurt so much any more.
Tomorrow is the one full month mark from when I found out Michael had died. A few days ago the image of his so still body on the ultrasound screen would not stop playing through my head. The concern in the face of my doctor, her worry expressed quietly so as not to alarm my other children who were all present. The assistant running the ultrasound machine who would not confirm what I already knew. The words of the radiologist resonating through my head "I'm sorry, I don't see any heart tones." The long, one hour wait for Hubbers to come into town from the work site, when I sat and stared at nothing, refusing to think or cry. The beginning of this lifelong heartbreak.
1 comment:
We can always dream about the world of maybe, but that's not where we live. Sometimes I wonder about how my life would be different if the car accidents didn't happen. But that's not reality. When I show Princess pictures from my childhood she points out her Grandpa in Heaven, not a Grandpa that will be visiting next week with Grandma.
I, too, seem to have women all around me that are pregnant. Friends are due in Nov, Jan and Feb. Another woman in an office near mine at work is pregnant and her due date is within a week of when my baby would have been due. Every day I can see how big my belly would be right now if I didn't have a miscarriage. I wonder if we would finally get to know each other, talk about our progress, our cravings or where she bought that cute maternity top.
Yeah, my first thought is "why not me?" But then I see how happy their blessing has made them and it wears off on me. I can't help but be happy too.
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