I just finished reading all the posts I missed over the holidays. Quite a bit going on. I'll hope to address some of it all soon.
I just wanted to clarify my last post. My friend's son's death was totally UNexpected. Darn typo, but I think some of you figured that out. She had in fact taken her son to the doctor twice (and received two different diagnoses--pink eye and an ear infection) and was preparing to take him to a third when he stopped breathing.
I won't go into other details in honor of their privacy, but the parents did everything they could. They were not prepared for him to die. Their baby seemed sick, just as he had been several times before, just as all babies get sick.
My flight was supposed to arrive in time for the visitation but it was cancelled without reason so I did not arrive until after the visitation. I headed straight to B's house. She was distraught, sobs racking her body as she blamed herself. "My shoes," she kept saying. She had gone upstairs to get her shoes so she could leave with him for the doctor's appointment and when she came back down, he had stopped breathing.
I listened and listened and filled and refilled her wine glass (probably too many times but that's what she wanted and who I am to say no). I also managed to push some water her way. The only good that has come of the last few years of loss in my life is that my experience made my friend feel as if I knew how she was feeling, as if whe had found someone who understood. We talked about the clueless fertiles who think getting pregnant would be easy and that everything would go well in the pregnancy. She felt like I knew what it was like to lose a loved one. I do, but as I told her, we expect to outlive our parents. We don't expect to outlive our children.
I also knew to listen and not to try to make her feel like her son's death was for any good. But I certainly don't know what it's like to lose a child.
The funeral and the graveside service the next day were the saddest events I have ever attended, sadder than my mother's death, sadder than her funeral.
And then I left that afternoon to join my husband, who had already started on our two-week roadtrip. I flew to meet him for our first stop, and we had a great vacation. I'll provide more details later.
But B is still grieving. She's worried about this week, the first without some other distraction, when everyone else has gone back to his or her lives.
While I still want a child, I have learned that there are far worse things than to never have a child. Burying one in a little two-foot long box is one of them.
Nevertheless, we have an appointment with RE#4 on Friday.
