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Dr Jerry today. day with merrill, maggie, jennifer. felt so out of sorts, out of place. not all there – just enough to function, but not enough to fool anyone. every time i sit for more than a few minutes, i feel an almost uncontrollable urge to close my eyes and go to sleep. Just sleep and sleep until now its over.

ran errands with the girls. to lunch. to several shops for some elusive magic-working undergarment called Spanx. to Target. round and about in an ativan-induced haze. feeling fuzzy. not completely there.

then at 5, dr jerry. Bobby wasn’t back from beaufort, so I went alone for the first time in months. glad it was just me. i told dr jerry the entire sordid story since the last time we met – being pregnant, being unpregnant, and the ensuing emotional, physical, social, mental aftermath. i cried and cried and cried. i cried until my tears ran dry and dr jerry’s eyes were wet. i cried until my head pounded and dr jerry had to ask me to repeat myself because my sobs were making my words indecipherable. he didn’t talk, he just listened. I talked about my loss. Bobby’s loss. my anger toward god, thoughtless people and everything in between. i talked about my guilt and sorrow that I allowed Bobby’s child to die. the unfairness of it all, and although I know the word “fair” should no longer even be in my vocabulary, it was somehow still a concept that I repeatedly bashed my head against.

dr jerry had no words of comfot. he agreed that life isn’t fair. life sucks. there’s no reason or justification for the shit that happens. i have a right to be angry – should be angry, even. we talked about the line between grief and self-pity. Grief is caused by a true death, a loss. it’s healthy and necessary. Self-pity is about the little insignificant shit that doesn’t really matter. he doesn’t feel that now is the appropriate time for self-examination of motives, legitimacy of feelings, etc. He said that I just need to feel what I feel. Let go of the guilt – he said that although he wants me to feel able to talk to him about the guilt and feelings of blame, he doesn’t support it. He doesn’t agree or believe that I had any responsibility in my baby’s death. and regardless of whether other people “allow” and acknowledge my feelings, they are legitimate. i’m grieving for the death of my baby. Not a “fetus.” Not an “embryo.” Not a “miscarriage.” A baby that was my and Bobby’s first child

Dr jerry doesn’t understand or pretend to understand why this happened to us. he agrees that we’ve had enough – that if fairness played a role at all, things would be oh so different. dr jerry said that i’m allowed to do what i want to do. with the exception of being bitchy just the sake of bitchiness, i’m allowed to grief however i need to. no one understands exactly how i feel. no one has lost their mother, their mentor and guiding force, and then lost their first baby 9 months later. if i expect others to understand, i’ll continue to become more and more frustrated – angry with others because i expect them to understand something that they’re incapable of, and frustrated with my situation because my loneliness will continue to become more and more pronounced by the lack of expected understanding.

i feel that in the last week, i’ve changed once again. i once again have morphed, grown as a person. as a daughter, a wife, woman, mother. a level of immaturity – understandable immaturity, but immaturity none the less, led me to call everyone far and wide to blast and broadcast our good news. like we needed to share our news with others in order to make it real or legitimate. it wasn’t just ours – it was an immature joy that needed the participation and support of others to come to full recognition. the next time, i would like to think that bobby and i will have enough joy in ourselves to feel complete without the acknowledgment of others. it’s just us. it’s our family our baby, our future, our decision. others can share if we so choose, but their knowledge can’t play the role that it did this time. will there be less trust and more caution next time? yes, without doubt. but there will also be a privacy, an intimacy that we didn’t have this time. we can do this.

when bobby and i got married, we went overboard. we had a huge, public, overblown affair that was a dramatic circus. it was what we always pictured – but it wasn’t perfect. what we pictured was too big, too picture-perfect, with too many expectations and too many rules. if we were to do our wedding again, it would be so different. so much smaller, intimate, meaningful. and the birth of our first child will be the same way. when we made our unexpected and wonderful discovery last wednesday, we went crazy. chose names, picked the most expensive and extravagant bedding and nursery furniture we could find, told everyone we could think of, and even looked up people we hadn’t thought of in years for the sole purpose of just telling them. too much, too fast, too many expectations, too too too.

next time will be different. quiet. mature. private. intimate. sensible and rational. thoughtful and thorough.

I love you, little Tadpole Rettew. You were perfect – all 0.05 millimeter of you. please know that your short little life wasn’t in vain. I promise I will learn the lesson, understand, and grow. I love you.

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