This post has nothing to do with my normal blog, but it's the only way I have to deal with this shit while sitting at work thousands of miles away from most of my family and friends, feeling absolutely helpless. It's horrible and depressing and I can't apologize for it, because I need to work it out in my own head.
Don't say I didn't warn you.
There are many people at home right now who are pregnant. I've been following them through email and facebook and stories from my mother, who has been attending their baby showers and eagerly talking with the grandmas-to-be. Several of them are very close childhood friends of mine, and there are even a few first babies.
This morning, after sitting down at my desk at work, I got an email from the sister of one of my elementary school best friends. My friend just lost her baby, less than a week before her due date. They've been monitoring her since very early on, it was a high-risk pregnancy but it seemed to improve and settle in. And then this happened.
I know there's nearly always a biological reason behind these tragedies. I understand that, intellectually. But the pain I feel for her is beyond logic or reason, and I can't imagine the pain she and her husband are feeling. I try to imagine, to take some of the burden for her, and I literally collapse. I feel so sick to my stomach.
Loving people is hard work, and it's a guarantee of pain. It is. I remember each and every time I was short with my husband, and I feel guilty. I think about the times I lose patience with N., even if I only get frustrated inside my head, and I feel guilty. Then I feel guilty because I didn't feel guilty at the time it was happening. I think about the times when they were sick and I couldn't make everything better instantaneously, and I'm reminded that I won't always be able to make everything better with a kiss and a hug. I want to take everyone I love and wrap them up in cotton and bubblewrap and packing peanuts and keep them tucked up safe.
But I can't. And it hurts. Almost too damn much to bear.