Doug’s been threatening to post to my blog for a while now, and tonight while I was at work, he decided to drink heavily and draft a post. Since he’s more of an out-loud charmer than a writer, I’ve edited it for spelling and grammar, but left the content as close to the original as possible.
One request to my sisters in blogland: I don’t want your comments on this. I want your husbands’ comments. Girls, f you want to tell me how awesome and sweet and thoughtful Doug is, pick any other post of mine to do so – I’ll get the message. But let’s leave this one to the men – they need those feelings of solidarity and compassion just as much as we do. (And please encourage – nay, force – your men to read it and respond.)
I told Marie I would do a post for her blog; I always envisioned it to be in the later stages of the blog, a thank you to all her readers, all her friends that have been along for the ride. So tonight seems to be that night. So to start this off, I would like to thank everyone who has been there, and has helped her along the way. Though I may never meet some of you, know that you have friends in San Diego, who will gladly open their home to visitors or send an occasional chocolate bar!
One of the blogs Marie reads recently had her husband do a post, and, well, I have been thinking about it a lot – not only what he said, but myself in general. Every story has two sides. Though I tend to always keep it to myself: I have never really opened up about the miscarriage. I have put it out of sight, out of mind, so to speak, until now. So as I sit here with a rather large glass of Crown Royal and a beer chaser, I plan to go out of character, to actually talk (well type).
A monkey once said, “It doesn’t matter; it’s in the past!” Granted, monkeys don’t talk, and though Disney has done some magical things with talking animals, the past means more than that deranged monkey leads on.
My past isn’t perfect; my mom will gladly tell anyone I screw up more than most. In the same breath, she will say Marie is the best thing to ever happen to me, and, well, she’s right. Marie has been there for me always, and what this whole experience – if you can call it that – has showed me is that we are one hell of a team.
It didn’t feel like that in the car when she threw her phone; it didn’t feel like that when I couldn’t help her. It didn’t seem right that I was helpless, to help the most important person in my life. For the past few years, I have helped where I could, being supportive, and recently making sure she does her blog every day.
That feeling of helplessness, even now, makes me sick. Though it wasn’t my body, and I didn’t have the physical attachment to the pregnancy, which at the time seemed like a good thing, the aftershocks are what got me. Sorry, that’s not right: the aftershocks are what get me every damn time.
I never had a problem with pregnant women, other than the obvious, annoying, hey-look-at-me crap. Being happy for someone else wasn’t hard, with the exception of some personal cases. Then why am I so bent out of shape still? At first, it sucked, but I was fine. I could go day-to-day, and I could suppress what I needed to for Marie. Since moving back from Seattle, it’s been harder to suppress the feelings: the jealousy, the rage, the selfishness. I make shallow comparisons to other Dads and want what they have. I often find myself thinking about how different everything would be. I don’t really show emotion, and on the inside, it’s tearing me up. I can’t honestly tell you the last time I saw a little kid in the store and not felt like I have been cheated. I look at the parents who leave the kid on the other side of the store to get something they forgot, and it pisses me off so much. I don’t know why, but why wouldn’t you want to take your kid with you?
I often wonder if it will ever go away. This empty pain of yesterday, yesterday being the day that Marie threw her phone at the dashboard. The day that my cocky, nothing-can-touch-me attitude went from who I was, to just a cover.
Some days are better than others, like anything else. Some days are struggles, where being locked in a dairy cooler and freezing is a relief. It’s weird to think that everything could be so different if that past had changed just a little.
We’re more of a team today than ever, and part of that is because of you. Thank you again so much for being there, wherever “there” might be!