Tuesday, May 20, 2014

At least

Ramona would be five months old this Saturday, and apparently that's the time when people start saying weird shit.  I had my first 'at least' comment this weekend, followed up with 'everything happens for a reason.'  I've heard about them, but had yet to hear someone use that phrase.  I need to get a speech ready, because it seems people think it's a comfort.  It is not.  Definitely not.

I'm surprised that people think using phrases like 'at least' and 'everything happens for a reason' are helpful or comforting.  There is no 'at least' when it comes to your child dying, and whatever the reason is will never be good enough for us.  Our baby died and you mean to tell me you think there was a good reason for her death?  Fuck that.

What I find hardest is the people who say these things are always the nice ones.  They want to comfort us, they want to help us.  I can't help but be offended and hurt, but I know they mean well.  The Well Meaning.  Good band name, bad commiserators.  My husband tells me over and over again to ignore the worst of the comments, to understand that people care and sometimes can't express it well.  I understand this, I do.  I don't want to sit quietly as people question my motherhood or the validity of my child or whether or not it's better that she died before we got to know her anymore, though.  I will not do it. 

What I wanted to ask this woman, this sweet woman, was what 'at least' would she be willing to accept if one of her children died tomorrow?  What level of comfort would she receive from 'at least?'  What satisfactory reason could be given to explain away the death of her child?  Or if I was feeling particularly harsh and honest, ask her to think about her child and think about him dead.  That's what we have to live with for the rest of our lives.  A life, however long, lived without our child. 

There is no 'at least you didn't have to get to know her and then lose her.'  That's exactly why the grief is so consuming.  We hoped for, dreamed about, imagined a life with our baby girl.  Our whole life was stripped bare like a skinned rabbit in a matter of seconds.  'At least' doesn't cut it.  'At least' can kiss my ass. 

So for the general public, the well meaning, if you ask how we are and we answer with less enthusiasm than you expected, please refrain from reasoning with us.  It doesn't work, it doesn't help, and it doesn't make a difference.  There is no reason that will make us accept the death of our daughter.  None.

Tuesday, May 6, 2014

Today

Today someone asked me if I'd had my baby.  It was someone who might not have totally understood my full answer, so I didn't feel like it was worth elaborating on.

So I just said yes.

I had my baby. 

It's the first time I've said that without adding, "...but she died." 

It felt good.  It didn't stop the tears in the bathroom afterwards, and it didn't put a cork in the jealousy and anguish I feel daily, but it still felt good to only have to say 'yes.'

I had my baby.