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Wednesday, March 4, 2009

My Heart Goes Out Isabel...
it's a hard world for the little things 

Sometimes life is cruel.

You know the Internet is a very strange and wonderful thing. Yes, it's generally a ginormous waste of time, but it also allows you to connect with people through this crazy blog 'o sphere whom you never would have met otherwise.

Last night I read some very sad news. One of my Internet blog "friends" (for lack of a better term), Isabel who was around 16 weeks pregnant, wrote she lost her baby. It broke my heart. I don't even really know her, except for what she has shared via her blog... but it broke my heart just the same.

She and the King (her husband) are blessed with their son, little Babboo who is maybe... three? Turns out she had two miscarriages prior to Babboo, and now the universe is forcing her to deal with a third. And this is the peculiar thing... because of her track record, she only spilled the beans about her pregnancy to her Mother and a few close friends, but she felt comfortable sharing her happy news with us readers. 

And now we all share in her sadness. 

She turned off the comments because she can't deal with the sympathy right now. I can respect that... and I totally get it.

You see years and years ago, Geo and I tried to have children. And although I never had to bear the grief of losing my child halfway through pregnancy, the return of my period every month was as painful as a white-hot sword thrust threw my heart. All around me were beautifully glowing women with round, fruitful bellies pushing a cavalcade of carriages filled with cooing cherubs. was so painful, like being surrounded by some twisted clown-car, cruelly belching babies, constantly mocking me. Or so it felt.

For two years I wrongfully blamed Geo. He didn't deserve that. I was angry at him. I was angry at the world. I was angry with our friend's wife who was miffed she was having their FIFTH kid...  I was inconsolable. Nothing anyone said to me offered comfort. In fact, all the niceties and the "Don't worry, Honey. Having kids isn't all it's cracked up to be" really sort of pissed me off. The worst part is I KNOW Geo would have been such a fantastic Dad... far better than me as a Mom. Now he has to wait until his next lifetime to experience fatherhood. It sucks.

It's the only thing in my life I regret, but we made the best choice for us at the time. Fortunately, we made it through and became closer. I was able to put that enormous desire and disappointment aside and enjoy the life we have. It's a very good life, too--filled with love and laughter, friends and family... but I knew one day the sadness would hit me again. 

For the last couple of months I've been feeling really sad about being childless. Maybe it's the whole fact my eggs are drying up signifying the end of my baby-making days. Maybe it's the fact I'm home alone a lot and the house is sooo quiet. Maybe that's why I started writing this blog... to fill the gaping hole in my heart. I don't know.  Maybe I just need some Prozac and a cocktail chaser. Ha Ha! 

Hey! I'm still laughing. That's a good sign, right?

Sometimes Life just feels like kicking you in the nuts and leaving you in a crumpled mess on the side of the road with a dead cell phone, you know for grins. It's not fair, but you gotta get up, adjust your package and keep moving forward. I'll get over my mental mess in time.

To my Interweb friend, Isabel... during this difficult time may you be able to find solace in the arms of the King and comfort in the eyes of your darling Babboo. I'm rooting for you, sister. 


~*Jenna*~ said...

Oh Murray,

I'm so sorry that Isabel's pain dredged up your own. It never really comes away, it just takes long term vacations. I got hooked on Isabel's blog from your blog and I am just so sorry, but I know exactly where she's coming from with the not wanting sympathy, Mr. Pretties and I had our fair share of miscarriages after our first daughter and it just plan old blows, no two ways about.

Personally, I second the Prozac with the chase, I may even do the same ;)

Thank you for sharing your story, I hope the process was atleast a little bit cathartic.

McParkway said...

My parents were blessed to have me and my sister with no problems.

I really have an odd memory, so I remember almost scene-for-scene the time my mom was pregnant with child #3.

It was a year after my sister was born, and we knew there was a boy on the way. I was four, and I remember knowing Mommy was pregnant.

One day, Dad took her to the hospital. My grandfather came over, and I remember watching "The Price Is Right" with him for a little bit before the phone rang.

The next thing I knew, Pap Pap was taking me to the hospital. After spending time there a year before to mark the arrival of my sister, I just assumed that I was going to meet my new brother.

Instead, my parents told me that the baby wasn't coming. I was obviously too young to know what that really meant, so it didn't phase me. In fact, I don't think I brought it up again until I was in middle school. That's when I learned the definition of a "miscarriage."

Once in a while, the subject will come up again in conversation. My mom will tell me about how my dad insisted on going to work the night that it all happened, or she'll point out that the sad anniversary was coming up.

My mom has been through a lot of emotional pain through the years. She's lost her mother, her brother died about 10 years ago, and she spends a lot of time alone as my dad works to make sure she still has a house. I can't really bring up any other questions about my brother, because I don't want to open old wounds. So while the stories are different, I still really feel for you.

Love ya, Mary.