Saturday, September 22, 2012

Wearing My Babylost On My Sleeve

I have one of those Facebook friends--well, actually, not anymore--who makes ambiguous posts about strong emotions. The somewhat overly dramatic I'm sad or I'm angry or I'm very hurt but I am not going to tell you why kind of posts. Some girl I knew from the track team in high school was making posts about how she just received the worst news possible. How no one can make her feel better. How if you can't take her sad posts then don't read them. How every time she sees a pregnant woman or baby she just cries. At this point I finally felt like I could help. So I wrote her a message, saying I'm so sorry for her loss, sharing my story, offering to write her baby's name in the sand, to call or email or just be there for her. I cried writing that message, thinking there was another BLM added to our ranks.

Then her posts started reflecting happier things. Carefree things. Her older kids going back to school. And I'm thinking...well that was a quick recovery. Clearly your baby didn't just die. Then like a week later comes the post: "I told all my family so I may as well tell you all too. I'm pregnant!" I am not a huge fan of early pregnancy announcements. But that is not for me to say. I am not a fan of waiting until the end of the first trimester either, so that in the event you miscarry it remains a dark, dirty secret. So good for her, right? I guess her older kids have a different dad, and she and her new husband really did get news that they could not conceive together.

I wrote her another message that said, "Congratulations. I'm so so glad it's not what I thought. Best wishes." And then I hit unfriend.

I felt so...taken advantage of! I know that's not true, she didn't do any such thing intentionally. But there I was, pouring my heart out, crying for her, trying to make her feel better. Wearing my babylost on my sleeve. And there was nothing wrong.

I know. There wasn't "nothing wrong." Just because my baby died doesn't mean someone else doesn't have pain. Even if I think it's nothing like the pain that comes when your baby dies. That's not for me to say. And I wouldn't hesitate to reach out to someone else whose baby died. Even, again, if I just THOUGHT her baby died. But now I might be a little more cautious about making assumptions.

(And yeah, I'm sorry, but I do feel a little like, that's so great for you, you can have your third kid now. And I can have my one dead one. GFY.)

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