One thing I've noticed lately is that apparently, my son's story is getting old. He may be turning five in just a few short months, so I suppose I should be "over it" by now, according to those who by the way, could never even IMAGINE losing their children, once, at least pretended to care. Almost no one at all even knew my son existed until less than a year ago, and even those who have known for less than six months are literally already MAKING FUN OF ME for it. Literally. Busting my chops about my dead son, like it's some kind of quirk I have that they can poke fun at. My favorite was my sister's boyfriend telling me, "babies die; get over it." REALLY? Because last time I checked, old people are supposed to die and babies are supposed to live...correct? Sometimes I want to say, "Yeah, well then I hope it's YOUR kid some day." But I would never, because one: I would never wish this life upon anyone else, no matter what they did to me; and two: it's not going to get me anywhere. So I have bitten my tongue. Another excellent one was "Not today. I don't have the time or patience for your problems right now." Thanks a lot, best friend of mine...(with beautiful, breathing, healthy children, mind you.) About a month ago, I was with my brother, my sister and her boyfriend, and an episode of House, M.D. came on in which a premature baby boy is on a table being shocked back to life, and eventually, dies right there on screen. I asked nicely a few times, and then eventually not so nicely if they could PLEASE turn it off. They literally LAUGHED, turned it up, and then told me a I was a crazy b****. Yes, you read that correctly. Oh, and my sister's boyfriend, being the biggest **** of them all, said another cute thing to me on our recent cruise (in front of 20 people, by the way: "your son's lucky he's dead, because his mother's such crazy b*tch he would have killed himself by now anyway." I couldn't speak, and ran off crying through a crowd of witnesses. On my top ten of life's worst moments, let me tell you.
So...needless to say, having a birthday party for Trevor is now something that unfortunately is not comfortable for me to do, because my story is getting old, and annoying. I was so excited, too! But celebrating my son's life, is now something I feel ashamed about...AGAIN. I thought I had gotten past this? I thought my ex was the only a**hole person who could have no feeling for something so precious. Apparently, I'm the only one who does. Regardless, I will lose all of my friends and family before I let my son's memory fade AGAIN. I betrayed my little man for far too long, and I will forever make it up to him.
On that note, my story is not the only thing getting old around here. I'm turning twenty-four a week from today (Sept. 25th), but I feel one-hundred and twenty-four. I'm exhausted, worn out, overwhelmed and weakened, trying to keep my son's memory alive. I'm tired from the guilt and embarrassment I feel even speaking his name. THIS IS NOT RIGHT. It can't be. What is wrong with these people? Am I the crazy one? Is it me, or is everyone I know cold-hearted and cruel? I'm also tired from consciously holding back when I feel like mentioning him; or interjecting about the ups and not-so-obvious downs of my pregnancy along with the other mothers. They look at me like I don't belong in their conversation, because I have to step out as soon as it gets to the living baby in your arms part...that part didn't last so long for me. I'm not able to chime in with the cute little things Trev did as a baby. Or give advice on parenting to someone who's technically been a mother for less time that I have.
What I've figured out is that no one really cares about anyone else for an extended period of time. And that 24 sucks. Because everyone I know is either on the end of the scale where they're married with living children and a life, or on the other end, where stuff like that is unfathomable because after all, we're only 24, right? Either way, I've learned that the one thing that makes it impossible to fit in with anyone at all, is having a dead baby...and unfortunately, my son is not here with me; so I guess I'm one of those people who will never fit in.
...I guess I'm getting old.
Well, I personally don't think you're old (I'm much older) but I can certainly relate to feeling older than you are, especially with life experiences such as ours.
ReplyDeleteI'm sorry that some people are being such jerks and inconsiderate. I really hate people sometimes and your post is just proof of why people SUCK.
:( let me tell you...i can relate to some of this; although, i've never had such mean, heartless stuff said to me before...but i know the awkwardness of not feeling like you fit in...being a little older, my demographic is slightly different. married people my age that have been married as long as i have, already have kids. what am i suppose to talk about when everyone is either talking about being pregnant or talking about their kids??...i feel stuck, left behind....i also get the impression that my story is old...only from certain people and not very often... never be ashamed to speak Trevor's name. he loves you for it...for remembering him...even when it's painful.
ReplyDeleteI am so sorry that you and your son are being treated in this manner. It's despicable and they should all be ashamed of themselves. A dead baby is not a laughing matter. A dead baby is not something to joke about. EVER. I give you a lot of credit for continuing to talk to these people. I don't know if I could. (((hugs)))
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