Yesterday was seriously, before the evening, one of the best days of my life. I ignored Mother’s Day, pretty much, which is easy enough to do in a college town on a rainy day when school’s out. If there had been lines at the usual brunch places, I’d have just pretended they were the usual lines. But it was pouring, so I didn’t even have to imagine anything. JJ worked and Baby Man and I went out, because he has a wonderful weather guard on his stroller and our apartment is too small for a gray day. And because I’m remembering how few the spring days are around here and how I spent so many of them last year holed up and scared inside.
I don’t want to miss a thing. Had we not lost Natan would I have been so pressed to be conscious of the fleeting nature of every moment with my baby son?
Baby Man and I went to a coffee shop and he napped for awhile in his stroller. Then napped for awhile on my lap. All the while I read a book about the Hungarian Revolution. When Baby Man woke up he sat for a while on my lap. I continued to read while he slapped at the pages. He is far more into my books with their white pages and black letters than his own colorful (anti)-tomes. Then more out of my concern than his, we stopped reading and cuddled for a long while, and he ate. We practiced sitting up on his own and then he flirted with the girl on the couch across from us. He got bored and we left.
Fast forward to the evening and bedtime. He finally agreed to one of my long-held dreams and let me rock him to sleep, singing to him with my terrible voice. He likes to rock but rarely actually falls asleep for the night that way – he tends to get upset as soon as I put him down.
Seriously the best day.
But there was a moment in there earlier in the day when he was napping and I was in the kitchen washing the dishes, that my thoughts wandered from him. I have been planning a trip to my hometown, which has to involve seeing S and her son. As the days get closer I am reluctant. I’m not sure if her son can be around other children, and I am not excited to drive 45 minutes each way for a visit without Baby Man. Not so much because I don’t want to be away from him as not having him there will leave me somehow exposed, vulnerable. It’s easy to not talk about the elephant in the room with him there. Also, I want to bring my mom for another shield, and well, if I can’t bring Baby Man he obviously has to be somewhere else, with someone else. I thought of an even better plan for a shield though. And to prevent the annoyance of a long drive to the country when I will only be there less than 72 hours and have so many (other) people (I want) to see. If the baby can be around other kids, why not get two other friends and their kids together at my sister’s? So that’s out there as a possibility.
But that’s still just talking around what upset me yesterday as I did the dishes. Tash’s post over at Glow in the Woods today really hit home, and at what I was going through 24 hours before she posted it. S is so clearly in the bad 1/3. And just as Tash wrote – it exploded 6 mths after. And it was almost a year ago at this point that we stopped speaking after she made my pain all about her and my being a bad friend to her.
And where are we now? We are speaking and it has not been spoken of. And I can’t do it. And I feel like I am betraying Natan and all of us grieving parents by just tacitly agreeing to ignore it. But I know she will not apologize. That other post a couple of days ago? She will not surprise me like he did. She won’t. For f’s sake when I tried to talk to her about how she abandoned me after my miscarriage she got all weirdly defensive.
I know if I bring it up I will be the bad guy. Because my baby’s dead, buried, gone, no one cares anymore. She’s dealing with the stress of a sick baby. Why should I add to that? I shouldn’t.
Why am I still whining about this? I set myself up by being the good person – although it’s more likely seen among the masses as not being a bad person – and calling her in the first place.
The thing that worries me the most is that I might have made it seem like our conflict was petty, or less important than her crisis, when I dropped it so quickly.