The Twisted Ways We Cope

Even saying "we" in the title expresses the twisted way I think.  I guess I think if I way "we" I don't feel so bad for it being "me".  I honestly don't talk too much to other mothers that have lost their babies and how they cope.  I guess sometimes I don't because I know that even though all of us have pain resulting from a like loss, all of our pain is different and therefore so is our coping.  Also, sometimes I think my feelings are just twisted enough to not share for fear people will think I'm crazy or mean.

Case in point:

Yesterday I was working a public outreach event.  I will spare you the boring details.  The thing we need to explore is there were more pregnant women there than in all the maternity wards in the three local counties combined.  Seriously, I'd almost bet money on it.  And for each belly bump there was probably an equal amount of strollers being pushed; little babies, not so little, brand new, and a set of twins to boot.

Needless to say, I was a wee bit overwhelmed.  Okay, a lot-a-bit overwhelmed.  My chest was tight, eyes welted with tears, hands shaking ... I was spiraling fast.  I needed to find a way to calm myself and not be so disturbed (and jealous) by the baby bumps. 

((Insert twisted thought pattern: Warning, this may be disturbing!))

I started imagining which one would lose their baby and making up stories in my head about when and how it would happen.  Statistically AT LEAST one of the people in that sea of pregnancy would lose their child.  No doubt about it. So every time I saw another baby bump I thought, "It could be her next.  She could go in next week and there will be no heartbeat too.  Or she'll go into labor and have a cord accident.  So, really, there area  lot of bellies, but not that many babies."

I, again, disclaim that I consciously KNOW that this was not okay thinking.  It's mean, twisted, wicked, and ... well, comforting.

I would NEVER, ever, in my entire life, wish the loss of a child on anyone.  There are people I don't care for; there are people I think would make crappy parents; there are people who probably shouldn't have children - I would never wish a loss on them though.

So it was disturbing and upsetting to me that I was even thinking this way.  It also bothered me that I received such comfort from the thought.  I no longer felt bitter and jealous, but empathetic and sad for whoever it was in this sea of pregnancy that, like me, would know the loss of a child. I wondered who it would be, which child this was for them, how they would cope. I wondered if they'd bury their child near Colton; if he wasn't going to be the only child in his part of the cemetery anymore.

I don't know why the thought even crossed my mind.  I don't know why I had such comfort with it, mixed with such guilt.

I do know that I will take any comfort however I can get it, though.