reading
this.
I don't know how it works, I'm not a dates person. I don't get sadder on the anniversary of anyone I know who's died. I don't approach their birthdays with trepidation, nor do I think of good times spent together and lose my shit
This is different, and while it DOES get better with time, this weirdass dates thing I've got going on, doesn't.
June 13, August 1st, pretty much all of February through to March, then there's November 11, December 1st, and August 4th.
They all creep up on me and punch me in the face, and without fail, I'm left wondering WHY those motherfuckers are trying to kill me.
Then I go "Ah [insert month here], I wonder if it's [insert specific date here]" and then it all makes sense.
Conception dates, dates of loss, due dates.
Time doesn't heal. What happens is the gaping hole in your heart becomes a part of who you are.
I still haven't worked out if that's a real downer or whether it's a simple statement of fact.
I don't know how it works, I'm not a dates person. I don't get sadder on the anniversary of anyone I know who's died. I don't approach their birthdays with trepidation, nor do I think of good times spent together and lose my shit
This is different, and while it DOES get better with time, this weirdass dates thing I've got going on, doesn't.
June 13, August 1st, pretty much all of February through to March, then there's November 11, December 1st, and August 4th.
They all creep up on me and punch me in the face, and without fail, I'm left wondering WHY those motherfuckers are trying to kill me.
Then I go "Ah [insert month here], I wonder if it's [insert specific date here]" and then it all makes sense.
Conception dates, dates of loss, due dates.
Time doesn't heal. What happens is the gaping hole in your heart becomes a part of who you are.
I still haven't worked out if that's a real downer or whether it's a simple statement of fact.
posted by aibee at 11:19
6 Comments:
Ah, Anna. I am so sorry. I remember those times and how sad and disappointed I was for you. I can imagine your own feelings.
Take care of you.
By
Cagey (Kelli Oliver George), at
10:43 PM
It's both. I remember dates too.. and I keep them to myself, because it would seem that they're only real to me, and that sucks in itself. (((Aibs)))
By
Angie, at
1:45 PM
I'm sorry.
By
Jenny Grace, at
3:46 AM
Wow.I'm the world's worst blogger and you all still show up. THANK YOU.
Miscarriage is so underrated. One in three women bla bla BLA so, unless you lose a pregnancy, your baby, the one you'll never meet, you're all "it's COMMON, it's just one of those things, sad but kind of expected, really, considering the odds", when what it means is, there's one in three women who changed irrevocably on that one awful day, and who present to the world like nothing much ever really happened.
/deep and meaningful social commentary.
By
aibee, at
9:03 AM
Yeah.. I remember when I lost the baby before I had Taryn (July 5, btw, on which date I think about it all day every year) and my mom's consoling statement was "You shouldn't have told anyone you were even pregnant." As If it was something I was supposed to pretend never happened because it didn't result in a live birth. I have never, never understood that.
By
Angie, at
5:10 AM
Angie, I know! I just don't get that, like I don't get the three month wait. Seriously, don't mention you're pregnant in case your baby dies, so then if you DO lose that baby, you....don't have to tell anyone why and you get to pretend for the rest of forever that you're all rainbows and kittens and everything's just wonderful? Can anyone explain that particular secrecy to me (not a rhetorical question) because I don't mean to judge, but I REALLY don't get it.
By
aibee, at
6:22 AM
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