Actually, the opposite is true. Everything having to do with Addison is magically SO wrong. My appointment for this afternoon with the perinatologist (which I've had for 2 weeks now) was cancelled this morning because the doc is sick. I will have to wait another 10 days to get some tests done to rule out clotting disorders or anything else that might have contributed to Addison's death. It's like the universe is telling me that she should have never existed. That the fact she got so far along was really a fluke. I keep running up against these brick walls when I try to get anything accomplished in regards to Addison. It's so strange.
In the meantime, I'm having these thoughts that I'm not sure about. Last Wednesday, exactly 11 weeks after giving birth, I got my first period. I'm a very irregular period person, so I never know when I'm going to get it, or when I'm going to ovulate, or anything like that. However, we did figure out exactly when Addison was conceived because we happened to have sex only 2 times that month--and it was 2 days in a row (which never happens!!). Turns out, those days were day 14 & day 15 of my cycle. So it appears that I do (or at least did that time) ovulate 14-15 days after my period. The thought I'm having is about trying to get pregnant again. Tomorrow will be 12 weeks since Addison was born. I talked to my shrink about my fear of getting pregnant too soon because I want to make sure I don't have a "replacement baby," but she doesn't really seem to believe in that concept. She made me feel like it would be okay if I got pregnant whenever. Which of course made me feel better. So, it's not that I'm going to buy ovulation testers or anything, but I thought maybe I would want to have sex somewhere around next Tuesday. You know, just to give it a go and see what happened. I'll have to think about that more. I'm not 100% sure I'm ready for the emotional roller coaster that will be pregnancy. (And for the record, Chris is okay with trying for another one whenever I am, as difficult as it will be for both of us to get through another pregnancy without going totally nuts.)
Tuesday, January 19, 2010
Thursday, January 14, 2010
No big deal
So, my friend, B, who is 26 weeks pregnant called last week to tell me about her struggles to name her unborn son. A little side note: We were pregnant with our 3 1/2-year-old sons together (born days apart), suffered early miscarriages back-to-back (mine first), and then she got pregnant towards the end of my pregnancy with Addison. I must confess that I was incredibly grateful when she found out she was pregnant this time with a boy. She really wanted a girl, but I know how hard it would have been for me if she was having a girl. And it IS all about me, right?
So B tells me that they have a first name, but they're working on a middle name. She and her husband have decided they would like it to be a family name. There are very few males on her side of the family, so it will likely be a name from her husband's side. So she emails her MIL asking for a list of family names. Well, apparently, B's husband has an older brother who died before he was born. MIL had a son Eric who died at 4 years old, and later had B's husband. (I regretfully admit I don't remember how/why. My concentration is somewhat limited these days.) So in the email, MIL says that her brother (B's hubby's uncle) feels like they should use Eric as the middle name.
She didn't know how to respond to the email because she doesn't like the name Eric (and has an ex-bf with that name). My suggestion was that she email MIL back and thank her for the suggestion and tell her that they would definitely consider it. In my opinion, naming the baby is 100% up to B and her husband (dead baby in the family or not), and although it would be an absolutely touching gesture, they are under NO obligation to use the name. Okay, so easy enough.
However, I was stunned when B started in on this whole idea that MIL is over the death of her son and it's just not a big deal in the family because MIL isn't an emotional kind of person and it was a long time ago. Now, this is a very dear friend of mine, who knows all the intimate details of Addison's birth, death, and the week in between. So I couldn't believe that she would actually say those words to me. And that she would think that ANY mother--even 30-something years later--would consider the death of her child to be "no big deal." I tried to be as gentle as possible when I told her that there is no way her MIL doesn't think about Eric on a very regular basis--even now. B really didn't buy it, and pushed back on that idea a little, and that made me sad.
It made me realize how little empathy we can sometimes have for others. Without feeling a specific type of pain or loss, it's really hard to imagine ourselves there--and hard to imagine the deep, intense pain it would cause. More than that, I think it's just too much work to let yourself go to that imaginary painful place, so we generally choose to live in ignorance. To a degree I get that, but at the same time it made me sad that B will never really understand what I've gone through and what I'm still going through. That she thinks someday I will just "get over" losing Addison and it will be "no big deal."
So B tells me that they have a first name, but they're working on a middle name. She and her husband have decided they would like it to be a family name. There are very few males on her side of the family, so it will likely be a name from her husband's side. So she emails her MIL asking for a list of family names. Well, apparently, B's husband has an older brother who died before he was born. MIL had a son Eric who died at 4 years old, and later had B's husband. (I regretfully admit I don't remember how/why. My concentration is somewhat limited these days.) So in the email, MIL says that her brother (B's hubby's uncle) feels like they should use Eric as the middle name.
She didn't know how to respond to the email because she doesn't like the name Eric (and has an ex-bf with that name). My suggestion was that she email MIL back and thank her for the suggestion and tell her that they would definitely consider it. In my opinion, naming the baby is 100% up to B and her husband (dead baby in the family or not), and although it would be an absolutely touching gesture, they are under NO obligation to use the name. Okay, so easy enough.
However, I was stunned when B started in on this whole idea that MIL is over the death of her son and it's just not a big deal in the family because MIL isn't an emotional kind of person and it was a long time ago. Now, this is a very dear friend of mine, who knows all the intimate details of Addison's birth, death, and the week in between. So I couldn't believe that she would actually say those words to me. And that she would think that ANY mother--even 30-something years later--would consider the death of her child to be "no big deal." I tried to be as gentle as possible when I told her that there is no way her MIL doesn't think about Eric on a very regular basis--even now. B really didn't buy it, and pushed back on that idea a little, and that made me sad.
It made me realize how little empathy we can sometimes have for others. Without feeling a specific type of pain or loss, it's really hard to imagine ourselves there--and hard to imagine the deep, intense pain it would cause. More than that, I think it's just too much work to let yourself go to that imaginary painful place, so we generally choose to live in ignorance. To a degree I get that, but at the same time it made me sad that B will never really understand what I've gone through and what I'm still going through. That she thinks someday I will just "get over" losing Addison and it will be "no big deal."
Saturday, January 9, 2010
It hit me really hard while we were at an early dinner/late lunch today. I don't know why it popped into my head, but we were discussing a craigslist ad I saw a week or so ago. It made me so sick to my stomach to think about the life this child might be living. (Keep in mind the email address associated with this ad had "vixen" as part of it.
And the tears started while I was sitting at the table, and I had to retreat to the ladies' room. Where I sobbed. I think it's been awhile since I sobbed. I know what happened to Addison was just bad luck. I know it was a terrible accident and it was no one's fault (not even Addison's). And it's still so unfair. There are children brought into the world by people who have a pretty blatant disregard for their safety and well-being. There are children brought into the world by people who actively seek to hurt, exploit and violate them. There are children born into tragic circumstances. I am not only incredibly sad for the children destined to live these lives, but I'm angry that their parents successfully had them.
I love Addison so much and wanted to care for her and love her and raise her. That's all I wanted to do. And it was taken away from me. And Chris. And Calvin (who asked me out of the blue yesterday why Addison couldn't get better and come home). The anger and sadness sometimes gets overwhelming.
Oh, I am seeing my Perinatologist for a follow-up in 2 weeks (they call it pre-conception testing; I call it post-death testing). Whatever you call it, hopefully we will rule out anything that may have happened to Addison that could happen in the future.
And I found a shrink I think I will like. I'm seeing her for the first time on Wednesday. I'm hoping to work through these feelings with her. Here's to hoping we mesh (or at least don't clash).
NEED SITTER 4 MY 1YR OLD 2NIGHT @ AFFORDABLE PRICE.
Date: 2009-12-31, 1:16PM EST
I NEED A LOVING BABYSITTER IN A CLEAN HOME, WHERE I CAN BRING MY SON 2NIGHT @ AN AFFORDABLE PRICE SO THAT I CAN GO OUT WITH SOME FRIENDS 4 NEW YEARS EVE. HE WILL BE ASLEEP FOR THE MOST PART. I AM ALSO MOBILE TO TRAVEL BETWEEN CONYERS AND THE DOWNTOWN AREA.
PLEASE EMAIL ME WITH RATES AND EXPERIENCE IF INTERESTED.
THANKS
And the tears started while I was sitting at the table, and I had to retreat to the ladies' room. Where I sobbed. I think it's been awhile since I sobbed. I know what happened to Addison was just bad luck. I know it was a terrible accident and it was no one's fault (not even Addison's). And it's still so unfair. There are children brought into the world by people who have a pretty blatant disregard for their safety and well-being. There are children brought into the world by people who actively seek to hurt, exploit and violate them. There are children born into tragic circumstances. I am not only incredibly sad for the children destined to live these lives, but I'm angry that their parents successfully had them.
I love Addison so much and wanted to care for her and love her and raise her. That's all I wanted to do. And it was taken away from me. And Chris. And Calvin (who asked me out of the blue yesterday why Addison couldn't get better and come home). The anger and sadness sometimes gets overwhelming.
Oh, I am seeing my Perinatologist for a follow-up in 2 weeks (they call it pre-conception testing; I call it post-death testing). Whatever you call it, hopefully we will rule out anything that may have happened to Addison that could happen in the future.
And I found a shrink I think I will like. I'm seeing her for the first time on Wednesday. I'm hoping to work through these feelings with her. Here's to hoping we mesh (or at least don't clash).
Tuesday, January 5, 2010
Looking over my shoulder
I'm doing okay right now. Surprisingly okay, actually. And it makes me nervous. I've had some great opportunities in the past week to speak with a few people extensively about Addison's birth, death, and the short period in between the two. I think that is such a healing thing for me--to speak with people who really give a damn about the dirty little details. Who ask meaningful questions about what happened--about her life. While talking about Addison I have cried a little bit here and there, but no sobbing outbursts or anything like that. Even in private, I haven't broken down and cried in days. A lot of days, I think. And I'm starting to get nervous that either: a) I'm a heartless person who is "over" the death of her newborn in just 2 months; or b) I'm about to be blindsided by some seriously tough emotional days. Neither is acceptable to me, and both scare the crap out of me. Honestly, being in the position of having a dead baby is totally wrong, so I guess any emotion (or lack thereof) is going to feel wrong, too.
Thursday, December 31, 2009
Adding Insult to Injury
I couldn't sleep (again) Sunday night and at 1:30am I reached out via email to the Perinatal Loss Group Coordinator at the hospital where I delivered Addison. I wanted help in finding a counselor/therapist/shrink to talk to one-on-one. I got a nice email back with, along with other information, a list of recommended grief therapists. Four of the 5 therapists in my city were listed as "Christian-based counselors" or "Pastoral counselors." That thinned the herd quite a bit. So, yesterday I looked at the website of the last (wo)man standing and thought she looked good. I logged into my husband's company's benefits site and determined she is in-network in case I liked her and wanted to see her regularly; called the EAP referral line and got my 6-visit authorization emailed to me; called the therapist and left a detailed voicemail message for her. This is why it's good I'm unemployed right now, because just doing that was a mentally exhausting task to complete. I've lost 98% of my ability to concentrate on simple projects. Anyway, I was very proud that I got it done.
Yesterday I received a call from said therapist who opened with "So, did you find someone yet?" I responded with, "I was hoping I found you!" She chuckled, then started in immediately with how she thought I should see someone who could deal with this type of "big stuff" [having a dead baby]. She said maybe I should contact Compassionate Friends for a name of someone, and I mentioned that I got her name in the first place from the hospital's perinatal loss provider referral sheet. I spoke with her for a few minutes, trying to convince her that we should meet and then make that decision. She said, "You sound really good." I hate when people tell me that, but I continued on anyway, and told her that I know grief can't be handled in a vacuum--I'm sure my other unresolved issues (daddy issues, control issues, anger issues, general craziness) would come up as well, and I hoped she could help me with all parts of my life. I just didn't want this to be the straw that broke the camel's back. I want to be as mentally and emotionally healthy as possible for myself and my family (that's why I'm on Zoloft). At the end I threw in that by the way I don't believe in God, so a Christian-based counselor wouldn't be best for me. That's when she told me that she definitely wouldn't be a good fit for me because she knows what gives her peace and happiness is God, so if she couldn't recommend that to me and always felt she was holding back, she wouldn't be able to help me. I thanked her for her candor and hung up. And then I wanted to cry. It's kind of like when I went for my OB follow-up appointment and everything seemed very reasonable at the moment, but 10 seconds later I turn around and ask myself What The Fuck Was That?
Later in the day I called the Perinatal Loss Group Coordinator (who is also an RN) and told her that I needed some help in finding a counselor. I briefly started to tell her about my conversation with the therapist and she was totally horrified. And I felt so happy about that, and thanked her profusely. Even before losing my daughter, I've always joked about me "being crazy." But now I feel like I'm crazy X 100 and am constantly wondering if my thoughts and feelings are totally off-base. Sadly, it doesn't seem like a joke anymore. Anyway, she took that provider off the list and gave me some recommendations based on positive feedback from other dead baby moms she has worked with. And then she spent almost 2 hours on the phone with me, listening to my experience in the hospital, asking specific questions, and telling me how sorry she was. She made me feel "normal" in everything I was feeling, and it was great. I guess that's why I'm seeking therapy right now--because it's exhausting wondering if you're nuts all the time. I still need to start from scratch and find a therapist who I mesh with, who "gets" me--oh yeah--and one who is in-network for our insurance and on the EAP list. I'm tired just thinking of all the calls I need to make.
On a totally different note, I'm trying to obtain a copy of Addison's birth and death certificates. Seems easy enough. I schlepped down to the Vital Records Office yesterday, completed the forms, went back out to an ATM because they only accept cash, paid the $20 and eventually went home with certified copies of her birth and death certificates. Only to have my husband notice that evening that the date of death on her death certificate was wrong. It had birth and death both listed as 10/28/09, but her death was actually 11/4/09. So this morning I called to see what could be done to fix this, and they told me to go back to the office or mail in a letter outlining the changes. So, I went back down to the office, completed the amendment form, and was told that someone from the Amendment Office would call me later. And they did. To tell me that they need "proof" that the date of death was 11/4/09. When I turned in the amendment form today, I also included a copy of the original death certificate request form that was completed by the funeral home director and signed off on by the medical examiner for the hospice. And I asked, "Isn't the death certificate created based on the information in that form that you have in your hand right there?" Hmm...yes, it is, was the response. But apparently they need the original. And who in the hell knows where that is. In another government office in the city, I'm sure. I am guessing they will sort this all out eventually and I will receive a copy of her death certificate in the mail at a later date. More on why I need a copy of her death certificate at a later date.
I guess I just feel like all these complications add insult to the original injury of losing her. When we ordered Addison's urn, the company apprently went out of business between the time we ordered it, and the time the order was processed. We did finally get our money back, ordered the urn from another company and received it, but the whole thing was a total pain in the ass. I feel like getting anything done in regards to Addison requires jumping through these ridiculous hoops. It's just annoying. Or maybe I'm just bothered because the truly annoying thing is that she died.
Yesterday I received a call from said therapist who opened with "So, did you find someone yet?" I responded with, "I was hoping I found you!" She chuckled, then started in immediately with how she thought I should see someone who could deal with this type of "big stuff" [having a dead baby]. She said maybe I should contact Compassionate Friends for a name of someone, and I mentioned that I got her name in the first place from the hospital's perinatal loss provider referral sheet. I spoke with her for a few minutes, trying to convince her that we should meet and then make that decision. She said, "You sound really good." I hate when people tell me that, but I continued on anyway, and told her that I know grief can't be handled in a vacuum--I'm sure my other unresolved issues (daddy issues, control issues, anger issues, general craziness) would come up as well, and I hoped she could help me with all parts of my life. I just didn't want this to be the straw that broke the camel's back. I want to be as mentally and emotionally healthy as possible for myself and my family (that's why I'm on Zoloft). At the end I threw in that by the way I don't believe in God, so a Christian-based counselor wouldn't be best for me. That's when she told me that she definitely wouldn't be a good fit for me because she knows what gives her peace and happiness is God, so if she couldn't recommend that to me and always felt she was holding back, she wouldn't be able to help me. I thanked her for her candor and hung up. And then I wanted to cry. It's kind of like when I went for my OB follow-up appointment and everything seemed very reasonable at the moment, but 10 seconds later I turn around and ask myself What The Fuck Was That?
Later in the day I called the Perinatal Loss Group Coordinator (who is also an RN) and told her that I needed some help in finding a counselor. I briefly started to tell her about my conversation with the therapist and she was totally horrified. And I felt so happy about that, and thanked her profusely. Even before losing my daughter, I've always joked about me "being crazy." But now I feel like I'm crazy X 100 and am constantly wondering if my thoughts and feelings are totally off-base. Sadly, it doesn't seem like a joke anymore. Anyway, she took that provider off the list and gave me some recommendations based on positive feedback from other dead baby moms she has worked with. And then she spent almost 2 hours on the phone with me, listening to my experience in the hospital, asking specific questions, and telling me how sorry she was. She made me feel "normal" in everything I was feeling, and it was great. I guess that's why I'm seeking therapy right now--because it's exhausting wondering if you're nuts all the time. I still need to start from scratch and find a therapist who I mesh with, who "gets" me--oh yeah--and one who is in-network for our insurance and on the EAP list. I'm tired just thinking of all the calls I need to make.
On a totally different note, I'm trying to obtain a copy of Addison's birth and death certificates. Seems easy enough. I schlepped down to the Vital Records Office yesterday, completed the forms, went back out to an ATM because they only accept cash, paid the $20 and eventually went home with certified copies of her birth and death certificates. Only to have my husband notice that evening that the date of death on her death certificate was wrong. It had birth and death both listed as 10/28/09, but her death was actually 11/4/09. So this morning I called to see what could be done to fix this, and they told me to go back to the office or mail in a letter outlining the changes. So, I went back down to the office, completed the amendment form, and was told that someone from the Amendment Office would call me later. And they did. To tell me that they need "proof" that the date of death was 11/4/09. When I turned in the amendment form today, I also included a copy of the original death certificate request form that was completed by the funeral home director and signed off on by the medical examiner for the hospice. And I asked, "Isn't the death certificate created based on the information in that form that you have in your hand right there?" Hmm...yes, it is, was the response. But apparently they need the original. And who in the hell knows where that is. In another government office in the city, I'm sure. I am guessing they will sort this all out eventually and I will receive a copy of her death certificate in the mail at a later date. More on why I need a copy of her death certificate at a later date.
I guess I just feel like all these complications add insult to the original injury of losing her. When we ordered Addison's urn, the company apprently went out of business between the time we ordered it, and the time the order was processed. We did finally get our money back, ordered the urn from another company and received it, but the whole thing was a total pain in the ass. I feel like getting anything done in regards to Addison requires jumping through these ridiculous hoops. It's just annoying. Or maybe I'm just bothered because the truly annoying thing is that she died.
Sunday, December 27, 2009
2009, it's time for you to go now.
Frankly, I'm just ready for this bullsh1t year to be over with. I know I'm just in a bad mood, but 2009 has been nothing but trouble. Actually, 2008 definitely had it's bad moments, too, like when Chris lost his job. But the silver lining was landing his current job just 2 months later. I also had a 10-week miscarriage and D&C in September of 2008. That hurt, but in many ways I was pretty quickly accepting once it happened. I found the silver lining and told myself that I really wanted to lose 10 lbs and find a different job before being pregnant anyway. I was in no hurry to get pregnant again, although we weren't using any birth control methods. And then came 2009.
We moved into a new rental house and I started a new job the first week of March. I found out I was pregnant a few weeks later (conceived 2/14 or 2/15--incredibly, we had sex 2 days in a row, which never ever ever happens). I hadn't lost the 10 lbs, so I was starting the pregnancy with more junk in my trunk than I would have liked, but I was still 15 lbs lighter than when I got pregnant with Calvin, so I knew it would be okay.
I never got a chance to tell my new employer that I was pregnant because on April 20,
after just 7 weeks on the job, I was part of a massive downsizing. I was actually planning on telling my boss that week because I was 12 weeks pregnant, had another OB appointment, and the jig was pretty much going to be up. But the silver lining was my killer 15-week severance package (not bad for only being employed by them for 7 weeks!!). I was able to pull my then-almost-3-year-old out of daycare and stay home with him while getting paid full salary for a few months. We were able to pack some money away in our savings account until I started receiving unemployment benefits.
During a really horrible rainstorm in September, Chris drove his '99 Honda Civic through a puddle on his way home from work that had actually become more like a small lake due to flooding. His car was a total loss. But the silver lining was that he started driving my Galant and we used some of our savings, along with the insurance money, to pay cash for an '03 Honda Odyssey (a minivan) for me to drive. After all, in just several weeks I would need a car that could accommodate 2 carseats and a Sit N Stand stroller and all the other baby-and-preschooler-crap. Besides, what family in the burbs doesn't need a freakin' minivan, right?
Well, friends, the silver linings stopped there. Addison was born. And then she died. In fact, it was others who try/tried to find silver linings for us:
She is in heaven (bullsh1t!)
She was too good for this earth (bullsh1t!)
She is now my angel and will watch over me (bullsh1t!)
I should feel lucky to have given birth to one of God's angels (bullsh1t!)
Good thing you have Calvin to take your mind off things (seriously?)
It's just all so wrong in so many ways, and I'm sick and tired of putting on my fake thin smile when I hear these things that are meant to give me comfort but give me NONE.
I have to go on a quick tangent to bitch and moan about my 60-something-year-old neighbor who stops by occasionally with goodies or just to check in on us. That is very kind of her, and her heart is definitely in the right place, but that is where the niceness ends. She knows I don't believe in God but ALWAYS stares me straight in the eye and gives me some ridiculous statement about Addison being in heaven. My favorite is when she told me: "It's okay to tell Calvin that Addison is in heaven. Even if you don't believe it, that's where she is." Look, lady. I lived the hard-core Christian way for the first 25 years of my life. I was a prayer-saying, scripture-reading, youth group-teaching, tithe-paying, proselytizing fool, and I get it. I do. And I probably deserve this crap now, after years of being the holier-than-thou version of myself shoving religion and God and Mormon doctrine down the throats of innocent bystanders. My personal favorite quote of mine was: "God is like gravity. Whether you believe in it or not, it's there." I am realizing now how unnecessary it was for me to try to "help" people by telling them that God is there and cares about them and has a plan for them. I think I was preaching to myself--trying desperately to get myself to really buy it. In the end, I realized that there is likely not a God/god. And if there is, he really has no interest in our day-to-day dealings on Earth. I have been trying to figure out why it is so offensive to me when people confront me with the God Comfort Crap. And I think I've come up with an answer. When a Christian tells me that Addison is in heaven, it is just like a Muslim telling a Christian that their dearly deceased is with their 72 virgins. Muslims believe what they believe; Christians believe what they believe; I believe what I believe. Let's just honor the code and shut up about God and angels and plans for me. Because if this is God's plan, I certainly did not sign off on it. If you want to say something that is helpful, say you are sorry. Because I am, too. I am very sorry my baby died and my life is now so horribly sad.
I don't even know what I intended to post about tonight, but it has clearly degenerated into a terrible rant of angry venting. I am sad and angry and lost and there are no words to accurately describe my pain and emptiness right now. Yes, I have a great husband and a great kid, but it's apparently not enough. I still want my baby girl. I just fucking hope 2010 is better than 2009 was.
We moved into a new rental house and I started a new job the first week of March. I found out I was pregnant a few weeks later (conceived 2/14 or 2/15--incredibly, we had sex 2 days in a row, which never ever ever happens). I hadn't lost the 10 lbs, so I was starting the pregnancy with more junk in my trunk than I would have liked, but I was still 15 lbs lighter than when I got pregnant with Calvin, so I knew it would be okay.
I never got a chance to tell my new employer that I was pregnant because on April 20,
after just 7 weeks on the job, I was part of a massive downsizing. I was actually planning on telling my boss that week because I was 12 weeks pregnant, had another OB appointment, and the jig was pretty much going to be up. But the silver lining was my killer 15-week severance package (not bad for only being employed by them for 7 weeks!!). I was able to pull my then-almost-3-year-old out of daycare and stay home with him while getting paid full salary for a few months. We were able to pack some money away in our savings account until I started receiving unemployment benefits.
During a really horrible rainstorm in September, Chris drove his '99 Honda Civic through a puddle on his way home from work that had actually become more like a small lake due to flooding. His car was a total loss. But the silver lining was that he started driving my Galant and we used some of our savings, along with the insurance money, to pay cash for an '03 Honda Odyssey (a minivan) for me to drive. After all, in just several weeks I would need a car that could accommodate 2 carseats and a Sit N Stand stroller and all the other baby-and-preschooler-crap. Besides, what family in the burbs doesn't need a freakin' minivan, right?
Well, friends, the silver linings stopped there. Addison was born. And then she died. In fact, it was others who try/tried to find silver linings for us:
She is in heaven (bullsh1t!)
She was too good for this earth (bullsh1t!)
She is now my angel and will watch over me (bullsh1t!)
I should feel lucky to have given birth to one of God's angels (bullsh1t!)
Good thing you have Calvin to take your mind off things (seriously?)
It's just all so wrong in so many ways, and I'm sick and tired of putting on my fake thin smile when I hear these things that are meant to give me comfort but give me NONE.
I have to go on a quick tangent to bitch and moan about my 60-something-year-old neighbor who stops by occasionally with goodies or just to check in on us. That is very kind of her, and her heart is definitely in the right place, but that is where the niceness ends. She knows I don't believe in God but ALWAYS stares me straight in the eye and gives me some ridiculous statement about Addison being in heaven. My favorite is when she told me: "It's okay to tell Calvin that Addison is in heaven. Even if you don't believe it, that's where she is." Look, lady. I lived the hard-core Christian way for the first 25 years of my life. I was a prayer-saying, scripture-reading, youth group-teaching, tithe-paying, proselytizing fool, and I get it. I do. And I probably deserve this crap now, after years of being the holier-than-thou version of myself shoving religion and God and Mormon doctrine down the throats of innocent bystanders. My personal favorite quote of mine was: "God is like gravity. Whether you believe in it or not, it's there." I am realizing now how unnecessary it was for me to try to "help" people by telling them that God is there and cares about them and has a plan for them. I think I was preaching to myself--trying desperately to get myself to really buy it. In the end, I realized that there is likely not a God/god. And if there is, he really has no interest in our day-to-day dealings on Earth. I have been trying to figure out why it is so offensive to me when people confront me with the God Comfort Crap. And I think I've come up with an answer. When a Christian tells me that Addison is in heaven, it is just like a Muslim telling a Christian that their dearly deceased is with their 72 virgins. Muslims believe what they believe; Christians believe what they believe; I believe what I believe. Let's just honor the code and shut up about God and angels and plans for me. Because if this is God's plan, I certainly did not sign off on it. If you want to say something that is helpful, say you are sorry. Because I am, too. I am very sorry my baby died and my life is now so horribly sad.
I don't even know what I intended to post about tonight, but it has clearly degenerated into a terrible rant of angry venting. I am sad and angry and lost and there are no words to accurately describe my pain and emptiness right now. Yes, I have a great husband and a great kid, but it's apparently not enough. I still want my baby girl. I just fucking hope 2010 is better than 2009 was.
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