Because I was Grieving . . .

Because I was grieving over the passing of two years of marriage without a living child of our own to raise, it hurt to hear the song Falling For You by Colbie Caillat.

It was one of the songs used in my Jazzercise class the spring of my first two pregnancies. And the feeling it describes is just like what I felt as I was realizing that I was pregnant and that I already loved that baby, and also the nervousness that I wasn't quite certain yet, and, in later pregnancies (after the first one) that it might not last . . .

I don’t know but
I think I maybe
Fallin’ for you
Dropping so quickly
Maybe I should
Keep this to myself
Waiting ’til I
Know you better

I am trying
Not to tell you
But I want to
I’m scared of what you’ll say
So I’m hiding what I’m feeling
But I’m tired of
Holding this inside my head

I’ve been spending all my time
Just thinking about ya
I don’t know what to do
I think I’m fallin’ for you
I’ve been waiting all my life
And now I found ya
I don’t know what to do
I think I’m fallin’ for you
I’m fallin’ for you

Oh I just can’t take it
My heart is racing
The emotions keep spinning out

I’ve been spending all my time
Just thinking about ya
I don’t know what to do
I think I’m fallin’ for you
I’ve been waiting all my life
And now I found ya
I don’t know what to do
I think I’m fallin’ for you
I’m fallin’ for you

I can’t stop thinking about it
I want you all around me
And now I just can’t hide it
I think I’m fallin’ for you

So, yeah, that song really did a number on me this morning. Which would have been fine, only I was on my way to church to teach the children's choir (we had our first performance last week and they did really well!).

Because I was still grieving over that song, I hit the curb trying to park at church and blew out my tire. Which really sucked. I had to go and teach and it was just awful. The kids were antsy. I had no patience. It sucked. Because, I was still grieving. As I was teaching. That was hard.

Then, I had to change the tire, which turned into a huge production when some cub scouts stopped to help. I had wanted to do it myself. Turns out, I got to re-do it myself, because I hadn't maintained my spare, and it needed to be taken back off, driven up to a gas station, filled with air, brought back, put back on, and then I finally got to drive my car to the nearest tire-store that was open on a Sunday, and arrange to have them put on a new tire and re-align the wheels.

The Mister arrived in time to help me get from place to place with the spare. People kept telling me to go get a canister of compressed air, but just taking the tire off and re-filling it seemed simpler to both me and The Mister.

By now, it was 1:30 pm, and we needed lunch, so we went out to eat. That makes twice in a week, after 5 months of not eating out at all (on my part, not The Mister's--he eats out for meals when he's at work). Then I left The Mister to go to acupuncture, and he brought my car home once it was ready.

I got home from acupuncture still feeling overwrought. I always walk or bike to and from acupuncture, because the 2 or 3 times I haven't (including today) I'm always upset when I get home. Getting some exercise after acupuncture is part of the process for me.

Because I was grieving anyway, even taking a walk after I got home didn't make things all better, and I ended up crying and yelling at my husband, and blaming him for something that was really my own fault. I felt awful afterwards, and told him that I had been wrong to blame him, but I am so afraid of how these outbursts of mine chip away at our relationship. I know they are much less frequent now than they were, that my therapy is helping, but I still worry about their long-term effects.

Because I have been grieving all week, what I really wanted was for The Mister to tell me that he also thought we'd have a baby by now, that this isn't how he envisioned our life going either. I told him I needed to hear that, and it seemed very, very hard for him to say it in those words. To tell me that it's hard for him, too. He wanted to say that he knows how hard it is for me, but I needed to hear him say it's hard for him, too. He finally did. And I let it go. Even though I wondered if he was just saying it because I begged him to, and not because it's how he feels.

This is something I very seldom ask of him. Once, he volunteered something about how hard this has been for him. I can remember one other time, besides tonight, when I pressed him about how this all is, emotionally, for him. There might have been another time or two, but the point is, I don't often ask him to mirror my depth of emotion over our infertility, or to talk about it if he does. Mostly, it doesn't bother me that he doesn't talk about how hard this is for him. That's not the way he's wired, and I'm okay with that.

But tonight, because I am grieving over passing our second anniversary without children, and because that milestone is one I don't want to have to grieve alone, I asked him to tell me that it's hard for him, too. I don't expect him to ache over due dates or angelversaries, or even the miscarriages themselves, the way I do, but I do want to know that he feels some pain over the space in our lives where we thought a child would be by now. I want to know that our anniversary is a joint milestone, not a solo one.

I know that he supports me, and that he wants us to find a way to have a child together. I know that for him, the most powerful way he can show how much he cares is through financial support. But once every few months, I want to be reminded that we are in this together in the way that is most meaningful to me--for him to say that it's hard for him, too.