I don't even think about the fact that I've grown "accustomed", if you can, to telling people that my eldest son died. I seldom deny him, although in truth I know I have a couple of times in recent weeks, because I judged the situation was best that way and that's a whole different story. But in the most part, I never deny him. Toby lives in his shadow. Almost.
Is this your first? No. Toby is our second. His big brother passed away shortly after he was born.
Oh, I'm sorry to hear that.
And the conversation moves on.
So, most of the time it's as sterile as that.
But every now and then, it's not.
A couple of days ago I ran into someone who used to be a good friend. Not that we had a falling out, or anything like that. It's just that our paths went in different directions, and that part of our lives moved on.
That was then.
And I think it's moments like that, where you run head long into your past, that you hear the walls starting to crash down.
Her name is Natasha. She was a part of a life that just doesn't exist for me anymore. I was her boss. In a career I no longer have. She was my friend. In a life neither of us live anymore. Everything has shifted. Left or right, it doesn't matter.
It was the type of reunion that includes little girlish jumps and squeals. Suddenly the pram felt awkward... it wasn't there in that other life. I'm grateful for it now, don't get me wrong, but you know when you can physically feel the gap between worlds? So, there was my pram, and there was her bump!
She was so excited for the pram. Is he yours, she asked? Yes, yes! Ooooohhh she said. And told me she was SO happy for me.
Clang.
Is he your only? I think they were her words.
No. I told her. But every single word hurt.
My first little boy passed away after he was born.
I saw her baulk, and the tears in her eyes. She told me she was sorry.
I think I glossed over it and moved the conversation awkwardly forward.
I thought about it a lot though, and here I am a few days later still thinking about it I guess. Just about how much more I felt the impact of having to tell someone I had been close to from before.
Does any of this make sense to anyone else?
It does make sense Bir. Very much so.
ReplyDeleteI haven't had that particular situation (as in meeting a friend from my previous life in person), but I have come across them on FB. They want to be my friend, but then when I friend them, I hear nothing from them any more. This despite the fact that my FB page clearly lists my three children. So then I generally un-friend them.
As for my in-person friends, particularly those here in NL, they've moved on and away from me. They can't reconcile the person I am now with the person I used to be. And I'm not the same person any more. Neither are they. They have living children and I have dead children. It's not a match they can identify.
And, if someone asks, I always tell them we have three children. Always.
Yes, it makes sense. My life is split into before Calvin and after Calvin, and running into people from before is painful and awkward. ((hugs))
ReplyDeleteIt makes sense to me too. For me, there's an almost subconscious idea that they should know about my baby, without me saying because surely someone - a mutual friend - would have mentioned something so newsworthy? And then the gap - the fact that my child dying was HUGE and eternal in my life - didn't even register for someone else.
ReplyDeleteI sort of feel the same way...like people OUGHT to know what hell I've been through because for crying out loud, I've been through HELL and surely the world knows, right?
ReplyDeleteRight?????
Ugh. They don't. And so I am slapped, constantly, with the reminder. And then the awkard. And then the days and days of meditation of how I wish that conversation would have been different.
It's surreal. But real at the same time. Like Crystal said...my life is pre-Matthew and post Matthew. VERY different!
xoxoxo