Blindsided

After two days of flight delays and cancelations, I've finally made it to my parents' house in Atlanta for a few days. (Atlanta does not handle snow well -- even just a dusting.) I've had mixed emotions about this visit. I want to see my parents and spend some time with them. I want to talk to my mother a bit more about what's been happening with us.

At the same time, though, I didn't want to talk about any of it. I didn't want to see the rest of the family that I will inevitably be paraded in front of. Yes, I know, it's a good thing that I have this family and that they want to see me. I appreciate them all. But, you know, sometimes I just don't want to deal with them. And, right now is definitely one of those times. I've been really low for the past two weeks or so and not handling other people particularly well. I just want to cocoon until this last-chance-to-be-pregnant-before-I-was-due cycle, this 2ww, this surgery, this unfulfilled EDD, this crappy year, this birthday are over. Maybe that's not the healthiest response, but it's what I'm feeling.

With all the delays, I managed to miss my mother's cousins' party yesterday. Thank G-d. It was a full day event of family. I don't think I would have handled it well.

I've had a migraine all day, but my mother and I managed to talk quite a bit about what's going on now and treatments and surgery, etc. I still don't think she really has any concept of how hard things are for me right now, but at least I've been open about it.

But then...

My stepfather's nephew and his wife wanted to go to dinner. This is the couple whose daughter is one of my mother's substitute grandchildren. I suppose I should have expected it. And, in a way it wasn't that surprising. Their daughter is almost two, after all. But, when we walked into the restaurant, what do you think I saw?

The mom is pregnant, of course.

I mean, I was wondering. But, I just didn't want to ask, you know? I figured my mother would tell me if she was. And, I figured if she was and she hadn't told me, yet, she couldn't be TOO pregnant.

But, no. She was seven months along if she was a day.

I was already bracing for an evening of my mother cooing over their daughter (who absolutely loves my mom) but I wasn't ready for this.

I appreciate that my mother probably didn't tell me when she first found out because it was shortly after my loss. But, really? In all the months since then you couldn't have mentioned it? Really? You thought the best way for me to find out would be when her giant damn belly hit me when I went to hug her "hello?"

REALLY?

F*** you. I don't give a s*** if you forgot you didn't tell me. I would think after a day of us sitting around together talking about IF treatments and my loss and my other cousin's losses and pregnancies in general (and even that damn Similac box) that you MIGHT have f'ing mentioned what I would see when we went to dinner. If you had just TOLD me then I would have been prepared. I wouldn't have stared slack-jawed. I would have actually participated in the conversation instead of having "she's pregnant, how far along, boy or girl, when is she due, why didn't you tell me, how could you not tell me, when did she get pregnant, was I still pregnant, did they have problems, was it easy, was it hard, he's such a great daddy, must act nice, must act happy, must keep smiling" going on a constant loop through my head.

When we were leaving, I thought "phew, I made it, I didn't cry, I didn't scowl, I smiled at them, I smiled at the baby, I did it." And then they started going on about how we definitely needed to get together again before I leave on Friday morning. Dinner again but at someone's house? We need more time to just hang out.

WHY?

While I sat in the back of the car with a headache on the way home, I got to listen to my stepdad talk about how cute the baby was and how smart and how he wonders how she'll be as a big sister. I think my mother finally started to get the picture because she sort of mumbled answers and didn't really engage the conversation or attempt to get me to participate.

I'm hiding upstairs, now. I'm trying to remember that the world isn't all about me. I'm trying to remember that every baby is wonderful and their having one isn't the cause of my not having one. I'm trying to remember that my mother didn't do it on purpose. I'm trying not to be so sensitive.

But, mostly, I'm trying not to cry.

At least, not too loudly.