Ugliness

Yesterday I went rock climbing. I used to love to go climbing but recently I haven't felt like I had enough energy to get my pack together, get all the way out there and actually climb something. I think it's generally life apathy combined with the sense that I'm not supposed to be out climbing since I intended to be climbing a lot less after Colden was born.

So anyway, back to yesterday. We get out of the car, grab our packs and head down the trail. It's about a mile to the climb we were heading for. Another party of two is right behind us and talking fairly loudly. They're relating great news: his wife is pregnant. The friend is ecstatic for the happy couple and proceeds to offer advice and congratulations at great length. I try speeding up but can't outpace them. I drop back a bit but don't lose them. They continue on and on, nonstop for the 15 or 20 minutes they're close to us. At one point, the friend says, "the first month will be the worst of your life, but..." I didn't even hear what came after that because the blood was boiling in my ears by then. I wanted to turn around and shout that she had no idea how the worst month of someone's life could turn out.

Don't worry. I didn't say anything at all. This is all about internal angst, not public displays of frustration and anger by an overwrought, thwarted-mother.

I wish that I wasn't made sad by other people's happy news. I don't want their baby, and their happiness doesn't make Colden any more lost to me. And yet I really struggle to be around their happy, confident surety. I desperately miss the days when I blithely assumed that pregnancy = baby. I long for the days when my knowledge of potential negative outcomes consisted of c-sections and mild jaundice.

And some babies are even harder for me to manage. A few nights ago I dreamt that every female in my family was pregnant. Tonight my much younger brother called. His wife is pregnant. Why do people feel that the phone is the best way to convey this kind of news to a babylost mother? I picture the two of them sitting home wondering what to say and how to say it. That must be a painful interuption to their joy and yet trying to make happy noises at them is stinking hard too. I lasted about two minutes and hung up and cried. Email would be easier.

I hate this ugliness that's coming out in me. I hate that I feel that Colden will be replaced in our family by this new grandchild. I hate that I have the urge to rain unhappiness down in strangers. I hate thinking constantly about how chaotic and unfair the world is. I hate that he's not here, growing up, learning new things, smiling at me.