This grief of mine is showing itself in strange ways. Strange to me, at least. I don't know what I was expecting at this point. I suppose at first I couldn't imagine that the crushing weight would ever lift, that I would smile and laugh and enjoy life again. Not that I expected to go on forever as the weepy, inconsolable wreck that I was. It seemed possible though. Very possible. Suddenly, the commercials on TV that brought me to tears during my short pregnancy - especially the one for 3M furnace filters with the baby and the giant fleas (OMG mold and pollen! In your air! Must. Buy. Filters.) - now cause a giant stone to settle on my heart, though thankfully the tears have subsided. Kleenex is no longer a precious commodity in our household. They've been replaced by pads the size of my head. Maxi gold, with wings for my protection, of course.
Now I've turned into the great, green-eyed monster of motherdom. I'm finding myself wild with covetousness for all things baby. Your children, I advise that you watch them. I'm likely to steal them while you're browsing the dairy aisle. Or perhaps from the playground, although that sound so cliche. Your babies, perhaps you should attach them to you with Velcro, as they are most vulnerable to my evil hands. Even your puppies are not safe. I suggest you keep all of your valuable cute-and-cuddlies under close watch until this wave of my grief passes. I want your bibs people. I cannot be held responsible for diaper poaching. What I'd really like to do is don someone else's pregnancy and wear it myself. Like a fat suit. Just unzip it off of you and put it onto me. Are you 9 months pregnant and itching for it to be over? I'm your gal!! Just dial 1-800-GET THIS THING THE FUCK OUT OF ME and I'll be there in a flash to relieve your discomfort. In return, I'll totally give you my endless post-D&C period. Tradesies!
A friend of mine from high school is blessedly pregnant. Recently we reconnected after discovering that not only were we both pregnant for the first time, but also that we shared a due date in late April 2009. It was eerily akin to a slap in the face when yesterday I logged onto myspace and saw that she had posted pictures from her 12 week ultrasound. I wanted to take those photos and somehow mesh them with myself, take her fetus and ingest it, implant her child in myself and replace what I'm missing. Not that I begrudge her her happiness. Not I, said the fly. It's just that those pictures felt like the ultimate SCREW YOU from the Universe, what with their fullness of life and absence of emptiness. Though tiny, the child is clearly visible on the screen - facial features and all. And again, the enormity of what Gray and I have lost rolled over me, causing me to close my eyes and struggle for breath. And when I opened them again, they were blazing green.
Now everyone's offspring is in danger of being swiped and cuddled to death. I just need to buy a big van with no windows. Watch out.
Oddly, these creepy feelings are all mixed together with sunshine feelings of happiness and good wishes for my friend and her itty bitty offspring. Apparently it's possibly to be insanely jealous and full of good will at the same time. Which seems contradictory. But whatever, at least I'm not murderously jealous. Not yet.