Got caught crying

I often get caught crying in public.  It is impossible for me to avoid because I am sad all of the time.  I get caught most weekends by our breakfast waitress when she sneaks up on us to see how we are doing.  I try to avoid eye contact but I can't decide which is weirder...for me to look down while she is trying to meet my eyes or to look her dead on with tears welled up inside of them.  I get caught in the supermarket all of the time.  Other shoppers see me crying in the aisles, the folks bagging my groceries catch me while I am standing to the side of my husband, grateful that we are almost out of there.  I get caught crying in my car.  I got caught often all over our beautiful Cancun resort.  There is no way around it.  I can't stop crying and "they" keep catching me.  I hate getting caught because I imagine what they think I am crying about....because I have been caught in my lifetime crying for much less than losing Max.  I am so embarrassed that I ever cried before.

Ted and I used to frequent a sushi place in our old neighborhood.  The waitress there had a crush on Ted.  One night, after too much sake, Ted and I had an emotional conversation about where our relationship was going.  I started crying.  She approached our table repeatedly during this five minute cry to see if we wanted another drink, more water, a hot towel.  It was pretty embarrassing.  I didn't want to go back there for a while and we didn't.  When we finally did, the first thing she did was look me in the eyes and say "You have not been here in a long time.  Remember you were crying last time?".  Ya, I remember lady.  Thanks.  I am sure she knew Ted and I were in the middle of something "heavy"....doesn't seem so heavy now.  Nothing really does.

When people see me crying these days, they probably think Ted and I are fighting.  They likely assume that my hormones are out of control because I am pregnant.  If I am alone, they might think I am having boyfriend or marital problems.  I am certain that they aren't wondering if my child didn't die recently.  I am sure that even if they knew it was nine months ago, they would wonder why I am STILL crying.  Ick.  I really hate having to live in this world....this stupid Wal Mart, overly smiley, everyone's gotta be happy culture.  Not that the opposite is useful either.  When Ted and I were on our way home from NY in November, the TSA agent at the security check confronted me, "Why are YOU crying?", he asked (it wasn't in a warm and fuzzy way).  "My son died", I choked through my tears.  He had no response. I sure shut him up!  A-hole!

The truth is, I am still working hard to just get through each moment of each hour of each day.  While my tolerance to my own pain has built up quite a bit since losing Max, the pain is still just as terrible.  The purposelessness of my "new normal" is glaring.  Without those cheeks to kiss, those thighs to squeeze, that smile to light up my life...I have very little to keep me interested in the world around me.  You see, to you, Max was "just a baby".  To me, Max was everything - my reason for getting up, my reason for smiling, my reason for rushing home from work, my whole entire future.  And, I love HIM...not just because he was my baby, but because he was uniquely Max. I still wake up every morning and can't believe that he is gone.  And while I know Baby M is coming, I cannot picture happiness in our lives again and anyway, Baby M is not Max.  I have no doubt that he will bring joy but I can't imagine it all, no matter how hard I try.  Also, it will be the joy of raising this new beautiful child in a world where his brother SHOULD be.  Then there is this other thing - when I see other people with children, I cannot picture us having children that are school aged.  It's not that I don't believe it will happen (though part of me doesn't).  I just can't picture it.  I know what you are thinking - and I understand that nobody can picture what their lives will look like before their children get here (people love to point out how what I feel is just like what other parents who haven't lost a child feel isn't.).  But, this is different.  I know what it is like to have my child's future cut short.  I know what it feels like to have my whole world crash in my face.  I don't know what it is like to have a child that lives.

Life feels so heavy.  The pain is just unrelentless.  I still can't believe that this is the way it was meant to be for the three of us.  But, obviously, this is what it is.  I miss Maxie so much it feels like my chest is going to cave in and I will just die (and I just wish it would already!).  I spend a lot of time wondering where the lesson is in all of this.  Is the lesson meant for Ted and I to enjoy life less?  Were we enjoying it too much?  Certainly, the lesson can't be for Ted and I to appreciate what we god could be THAT cruel.  Or, was our family picked to be an example to other people: "Live life to the fullest!  It is short!"  I don't want to be an example.  I just want my baby back.

When I have a "good day", I am faking it.  Just below the surface, I am in agony.  There are no "good days".  There ARE days that pass quicker than others and for those, I am grateful.  What I am doing is not is surviving.  The faster time moves, the closer I am to Max and I just cannot believe how long this life really is (hopefully the years of smoking I did will have taken their toll on the final year count of my life).  It just stretches out in front of me infinitely.  Though I know intellectually that it is April and it has been nine months since I was last with Maxie, in so many ways, it feels like time has just stood still.  My life ended on July 21, 2011.  It is for all of these reasons that I keep crying and why I should probably just make my peace with getting caught.


Joyce said...

Abby, you might want to take a look at a book called Hope Will Find You by Rabbi Naomi Levy. It might be a guide or source of comfort or it might not but take a look.

greg said...

The infamous Osnot Sushi. I still drive by it on my way to work.

Baby M. should have had an older brother. It's not fair.

Miss and love you both.

Rebecca Patrick-Howard said...

In some ways, I find the good days to be worse than the bad ones. At least with the bad ones I know what to expect. :-( Hugs to you. Love you. And Ted. And Maxie. And Baby M.

Sanetha said...

I lost my son Sept 11, 2011. He left behind his wife, and twin babies just born 8 months before he left us. We all miss him so much and the pain will never go away nor do we want it to. But can do things to change our energy and make things all right again for you and for them.

I feel your pain as I read your hurts so much. You can turn this energy around...your pain will grow as long as you hold onto it. Let the pain no longer serves you or Maxie. Maxie is with you every single second feeling your pain along with you. Please help Maxie by helping yourself first.

We all came to learn lessons from the ones that come into our lives. They never die--they are spirits and around you all the time.

I send this message to you with most loving intentions and healing.

We never stop crying because it feels good. It is ok to cry and nobody is judging you except you. It takes a lot of guts to write your pain. Keep writing and as you do, write about the good Maxie brought to you. :)

Jayden's Mommy said...

Thank you for writing. I lost my baby boy 12 weeks ago and I'm always caught crying. Most people seem like they just don't want to talk about it. And they keep asking how u doing. I hate that as soon as I mentioned Jayden they say its going to be okay. It doesn't feel like its ever going to be okay. As I read some of your logs I cried and felt like I was reading my feelings.