A difficult phone call

I'm having a terrible week. I've seen all 3 of my therapists this week already (um, it's only Wednesday), and I'm seeing one of them again tomorrow. Four times in 4 days. But it works. Otherwise, I wouldn't keep going back. And it's much better than having to be in a hospital, which isn't necesarry right now because I'm not a threat to myself. I'm just heartbroken. And little did I know the phone call I would receive today would be such a threat to my heart what little progress I've made.


Kathlyn's birthday is fast approaching and the kindermourn therapist thinks that's the stem of this current wane. I didn't really attribute it to that, I more attributed it to the fact that it's coming near to the time I'm allowed to start trying to conceive again, and that's such high stress for so many reasons. I feel like it's so easy to fail at that - not get pregnant - not even ovulate - or get pregnant and lose another one. But the possibility of success and reward makes me strive and long so hard for it.


I've done as many things as possible that I would have done if she were alive. She had a Christmas stocking and presents, an Easter basket, I pretty-up her pictures to share almost daily, since I can update the background, but not the subject. I'm sure if she had lived, I would have taken and posted pictures daily of her. We write her name, we light candles, we talk to her and pray for her and cry for her. I imagine, through my friends' children, what she'd be doing, especially the ones her age.

So it only felt natural to have a memorial birthday for her. There have been 3 public events we've gone to, to honor her: two candle lightings, and the recent balloon release. I felt SO close to her, SO close to God, SO close to the people who came with me to share in these events and remember with us. Knowing that I'm not alone.. I have God, I have John, I have friends, I have family, I have people who know what I'm going through because they've been through it too.

I love making things for my baby. I had planned out her birth announcement, which I never got to make. So I incorporated it into our Christmas card, and I got such a positive response to that... everyone thought it was the most beautiful, touching, yet heartbreaking thing they'd ever seen, and many people told me they stared at it for hours. That meant so much to me. No one ever got to see her or hold her, so stare at her gorgeous photos all you want... it warms my heart, and hers too I'm sure.

So I found a beautiful First Birthday invitation that could easily be reworded as a memorial birthday. I got some little envelope stickers and things to match, things to have and give out at the memorial gathering. I still want to experience as much of motherhood as I can. I don't get to change diapers, rock to sleep, play with, laugh with, get through the hard times with my daughter. But I can still plan a birthday memorial for her. I can do a pretty card and decorations, and since I bought presents at Christmas for a few children's charities, I suggested my guests bring a gift to donate to the children's hospital I work at, in honor of my sweet baby girl who I won't get to watch her smear cake and pink icing or tear princess and kitty cat wrapping paper. I won't get to watch her run her little curious fingers through ribbon, or reach back into MY arms, Mommy's arms, as everyone wants to pass around the birthday girl for a snuggle and a kiss. I won't get to celebrate the rights of passage to whole milk and a forward facing carseat. So is a barbeque with those who love us, who love her, with a balloon and/or butterfly release REALLY too much to ask for.

I received a telephone call from a friend of one of our families'. A rather close friend, though she does not live locally. We had the following extremely disturbing conversation.

Her: Hi Beth, this is [her name]. I received this, um, card, this invitation in the mail.

Me: uh-huh [expecting her to say that she doesn't live locally so she can't come. which would have been obvious to me. but they are close friends, I include even those who can't come, kind of like a wedding guest you know won't attend, but send an invitation as a sort of announcement of the event.]

Her, clearly having a hard time chosing her words: I just, um, think that maybe this has gone too far? I think maybe it's time for some counseling.

Me, totally flabberghasted: um, I'm IN counseling alrea..

Her, cutting me off: this is just so upsetting to me.

Me, cutting her off: well it's upsetting for me all the time! I really, really can't believe you're calling me like this...?!

Her: Well I can't see you like this, you're living in the past..

Me, cutting her off again: ok. I'm done with this conversation, thank you for calling... [slammed the poor unsuspecting phone, I could almost hear it echo I'm just the messenger]



SERIOUSLY. What, EXACTLY, was she trying to accomplish from this conversation??? SERIOUSLY?? Who do you think you are?! You have a lot of fucking nerve to call me like that, you don't have a damn clue, so why don't you mind your manners and keep out of my business. It helps me for people to come spend time with me, all in honor of my princess. How DARE you challenge that?! I don't give a shit that you're upset, you'll get over it, your child isn't dead, mine is, and I won't. Living in the past?! "The past" is ALL I HAVE of her. I have every right to talk about my daughter the same as any mother to a living child does. I think about her as often as any mother of a living child, I love her as much, I planned for her as much, I'm never going to forget her or stop honoring her life or stop celebrating all the tireless support I have. The support who I will see, talk to, or hear from endlessly on the 30th of next month, this much I know is true.

Pray that this incident erases from my memory forever, never to return or repeat.