Special Days are Not So Special

Well, I did it.

Yesterday M and I went to visit our baby friends. He had contemplated going for a while; yesterday when he mentioned it I was feeling strong, and said I would go too.

This was after I got home from church, where the much-dreaded first baptism took place. I was warned in advance; I had a substitute all lined up should I be too emotional. I wanted to get it over with. It's part of my job, I couldn't refuse to play for baptisms forever. I wanted to do it in the summer, when the organ and choir loft were mine and mine alone; I didn't want the inaugural baptism to be when the choir comes back after Labour Day, with twenty pairs of eyes fixed on me, wondering about my reaction.

So I did it. And it was ok.

It was a little boy, which made it easier. He was, maybe 3 or 4 months old. I tried to think about something else during the pouring of the water and the responses. When it was time to play the little baptismal song I pushed through it, tried to focus on the notes on the page, not the tune or the words.

The congregation sang, Oh, Ayden did you know, that you are very special.....

I tried not to remember Charlotte's funeral, where we sang the same song.

Oh, Charlotte did you know, that you are very special....

I made it through. I did not cry, although the familiar lump in my throat was present the entire time.

I was proud of myself. And relieved. Felt like I had conquered something, which probably led to my agreeing to visit the Baby Friends.

As we pulled onto their street and into their driveway, I got nervous. The same feeling I get before I go onstage for a big performance, a little breathless and light-headed, dizzy. I pulled myself together as M rang the doorbell.

Please don't answer with the baby in your arms. Please don't.

I got my wish. M's best friend opened the door and ushered us in. I managed an enthusiastic Hi and a big smile. The dog was let into the porch, he jumped up. Ordinarily I would have scooted away, yesterday I was grateful for the distraction. I pet him and talked to him as the new mommy opened the door to the living room to greet us. Still no baby in sight.

We sat down in the living room, now transformed from the last time we visited, pre-baby. A pack n'play now in the corner (is that a swaddled baby in there?), the ridiculously expensive baby swing we made fun of them for buying, half a dozen mylar It's a Girl balloons, partially deflated, the screen saver of rolling pictures: baby in bath, baby in hospital, mom and baby in hospital, baby with aunt, etc etc.

We sat. We chatted. Nothing baby related. The weather, our upcoming trip, price of gas. Purposefully avoiding the huge white elephant. Or rather, the swaddled bundle of joy 8 feet away. I was feeling pretty good. I can do this. I'm doing this.

Mommy jumped up, slapped her hands on her lap. So, do you want to see her? Too excited a tone. I nodded. Mommy walked over the the pack n'play and I said, desperate now, Oh, don't wake her. She scoffed. No big deal. She's awake anyway.

I stood to greet them, the two of them. The baby was swaddled in several blankets, the outer being the softest fleece. Her little hand was covering her face, her eyes opened. She moved a little.

Do you want her? Mommy asked me, as she motioned for me to take her. No. Please no. Do not give me that sweet smelling little bundle. I didn't miss the irony of the question. Do I want her. Yes, yes I do. But she's not mine, and if you give her to me I might not be able to give her back.

That's ok. We'll sit down.

She sat down beside me on the couch, baby in arms. M came over and stood by me, to support me, to see the baby, I'm not sure. I was glad he was there.

I'm a big girl, Mommy said, in a sing-song voice. I was 8 lbs 5 oz when I was born and now.....

I didn't hear the rest. The tears came, streaming down my face and I turned into M's jacket and cried that I wanted to go home. I couldn't breathe.

They handled it well. Mommy passed the baby to her husband with instructions to take her upstairs. I could tell this was their plan. They expected this. They knew I wouldn't be able to do it. She turned to me and gave me a big hug, talking in a soothing voice like I was six years old. It's ok. It's too close to home. A little bit at a time. She'll get bigger. It must be really hard.

You have no idea. You have no idea. You have no idea.

The tears subsided. Daddy came back downstairs. She was asking us what we had learned about our chances at a successful pregnancy. We still haven't seen our MFM. We talked about what we're expecting to hear. The baby's cries came over the monitor. Daddy muttered I should go check on her and went back upstairs. He didn't come back.

We chatted for another few minutes, my new job, our anniversary plans. Mommy said she had to leave soon, she was shopping for her future sister-in-law's bridal shower. We were glad to have a reason to leave.

I came home and went to bed. I was done.

M feels that he's going to lose them as friends. Not because of them, I really do think they're trying to handle this as delicately as possible, but for us, it will never be the same. I don't know if I'll ever be able to be in their company without seeing their baby as a parallel of what Charlotte "should" be. Yes, she'll get bigger. Will that make it easier? I'm not sure. This couple is the center of our social circle. They host the parties, plan the trips. The next birthday dinner is in a week. I don't think I can sit through a 2 hour dinner with that baby there. After that we're looking at all the holidays, the weddings we're all invited too, Christmas parties, New Year's, etc. Even when I was in the hospital, in the shock of Charlotte's death, I was worried about our future relationship with the Baby Friends. I knew it would be so hard. It was only yesterday that M realized it too.

One day at a time, for now.

Before we went over there I had been feeling pretty good. Still heart-broken and sad, but somewhat accepting of the fact that my baby is dead. That's our reality. I hate it, but there it is.

When I got home yesterday, it was like,

My.

Baby.

Is.

Dead.

I forgot how great this is supposed to be.

Today is our first wedding anniversary, and also Charlotte's due date. Ha ha ha.

I'm technologically illiterate but I'm going to attempt to post a couple of pictures from our wedding.

Leaving the ceremony:

This was taken my one of the bridesmaids during our first dance- what I wouldn't give to be happy like this again.