So. What's it like being part of the mother's club?

To be honest?  I'm not entirely sure.  I can't say I'm entirely in it.  I have, of course, got one foot in.  And yes, that is certainly better than none.  I hear you, I hear you.

But over the past few years I have read, from time to time, other people's posts about how they don't really feel like they fit in.  I know I've also posted a bit about it thus far too.  The truth is that if you can possibly put all the dead baby stuff out of your mind for a while, then you simply would fit in.  Reason?  Well, honestly my world is full of teething, dirty nappies, solids and screaming babies (well, babe).  So, yes, it is kinda, relatively, sorta easy to fit in.  For a bit.

But on Saturday night here we had a small "party" for Shane's 40th birthday.  Maybe fifteen people.  It started about 4ish in the afternoon.  And sometime in those next couple of hours I inwardly spewed.  If that's possible.

You see it hit me that I was glad that none of our wonderful baby lost friends were there.  It hit me just what, or who, the subject of the party was for those first couple of hours.  And certainly the topic of conversation.

"So, is he a good baby?"

"Teething? Oh yeah, when Abs started.... "

"Oh, look how strong he is!  Tom used to..."

I'm not going to go on about the examples, but you get my point.  There was nothing in the conversation for someone who didn't have children, let alone someone who had lost one (or two or three...).

Somehow we became them.  I wondered if any of them had given a second thought to the other little boy who wasn't there.

And as always, a bit of salt for your wound?  You might remember me posting about my own birthday back in Feb and the presence of two three year olds - one being miss Molly, my niece, who I love and adore, and the other being the daughter of a lady I befriended when we were doing pregnancy pilates together in our first pregnancies.  Abs came along six weeks or so before Ciaran.  Safe.  Well.  Alive.  Living.

I'm used to being around Molly.  I don't always look at her and "see" Ciaran, and wonder who he would be.  I can use Molly as a bit of a guide as to what he might be doing, but mostly it doesn't upset me.  Abs on te other hand... well, she doesnt' upset me, but whenever I see her, which isn't often, it hits me like a tonne of bricks and knocks me for a six.  Again.

And so, while my own living little boy played in his activity centre and squealed and carried on like an eight month old, in the centre of the circle, I watched the three year old.  Her ladylike manners.  Her blonde curls and blue eyes.  I watched her trying to get Toby to keep the hat on his head, and her exasperated "To-by!!" with her hands on her hips.  And I thought of that little boy, the big brother, who should be there doing the same.

I haven't processed the photos yet, but I looked at them in-camera last night and all of this really came home... seeing the three year old at Shane's side as he blew out the candles on his cake, and then had them re-lit for her to blow out.  It didn't bother me at the time... it's what you do for kids, right?  But now, it kind of bothers me.  Those candles should have been blown out by another little three year old.

Sometimes it all sucks.

Or all of the time.

:::

No news on the job/house front.