Charmed, I'm Sure

Now seriously, what is it about the shower that inspires blog posts in me? Could it be that this is the one and only time in my day when I slow down just long enough to hear my own thoughts? This is entirely possible. Tonight, I experienced what can only be termed 'thought ADHD'. I can officially diagnose this as I am, stand back, a credentialed professional. Haha. Or at least I play one on TV.

So, while standing there admiring my amazing conditioner in all it's de-tangling glory, it dawned on me that so many of my friends have said the absolute wrong things to me and most of these comments came in the wake of my miscarriage. As you read, you may begin to question the quality of my friend picking instrument, but I assure you that in general, it is a solid device and the good seeds generally outweigh the bad. The bad just often cast a more noticeable glare in my eyes as of late.

For instance, upon hearing of the sudden cancellation of my party, a friend e-mailed to see if I was OK. I decided to not be 'in the closet' with the miscarriage and explained what had happened to which she replied, "Oh, well I thought maybe something really horrible had happened like a relative or a pet died."

Um, if you weren't reading closely enough, you might have noticed that yes, someone did die. My child, point in fact. But something tells me that like most, this not-quite-a-person hadn't yet qualified in her eyes.

Just a few days ago, this same person left a comment on my 'real' blog in response to my new job, remarking that I had a 'charmed' life. Really? Charmed? Anyone who thinks losing a baby is a charming experience is pretty twisted. Yes, while possibly innocent and most importantly, ignorant, this chick is completely on my shit list now.

Let's see, what else? Oh, yeah. Another friend likened my miscarriage to her abortion at 18. Yeah. She told me that she knew what I was going through. I can sympathize that it must have been so difficult for her, but to make the choice to lose a child after a 'whoops' and to lose the child you have been fighting to get after 4 years of trying is hardly synonymous. I know she was only trying to reach out, but it was a tasteless move.

Then, of course, I got the requisite, "it's so common!". My friend of 22 years decided to tell people at the office and found out that not one, but three co-workers had had miscarriages. "It happens all the time!"

Wow. Thanks, friend. Somehow, my loss is completely meaningless now. What would have I done without you showing me the light? Probably felt sorry for myself, that's what I would have done, but now I can move on! Hallelujah!
(Tonight's role as the bitter infertile will be played by Shelby!)

There were a litany of other comments, and most of them, I will admit, were said out of good intentions. But this was just a little slice of reminder telling me, "yes, you should stay in the IF closet, because if you don't, this will happen, only on a much larger scale!" I agree with Nikki. It is hard to be the friend of an infertile if you are not infertile yourself. We are a sensitive bunch, with our feelings bubbling just below the surface. But all we need is love. Just ask the Beatles. It's true. A hug, an 'I'm sorry'. Save the completely irrelevant and tasteless tales for another day. Some of my best friends sent cards and one sent flowers, which meant the world to me. That's all they needed to do. I learned a lot about the people around me in this process and thankfully, in most cases, I liked what I saw.