I REALLY don't want you to understand why today's shower is difficult

 Today I am co-hosting a baby shower. Why? I'm not so sure myself. Well, I do know why (because it's my friend's co-hosting with me and it's for our friend's baby), but I don't know why I am doing it since it actually is kinda tough on me.

You see, this baby that is being showered is due only a couple of weeks before I should've been due. This baby is their second as our lost baby would've been for us. The mom is the one who hugged me without letting go after she heard of our third loss. How is that bad, you ask? You see, that innocent hug? It pushed her rounding baby belly into my recently evacuated belly area... and it. wouldn't. move. (And, yes, I am aware that this is my "issue" and not hers. That's why I haven't told her.) This mom complained about pregnancy related things at a shower we were at a couple of weeks ago. This mom doesn't understand. Heck, YOU may not understand. But I'm glad you don't understand.

I found the following article online at Still Standing. It may help explain a little bit of that lingering sadness (And jealousy? Probably.).

I’m Glad You Don’t Understand

August 11, 2012

Guest Post by Tracy [On Still Standing]

Yesterday my mom said that I should do things I don’t want to because it will help me get over it faster. And then today suggested I visit my doctor—I might need medicine for depression.
I’m not going to get over it—I may get through it; there may be another side of this grief, but it will never be over.

I’m sad—grieving—but I don’t think I’m depressed. It’s only been two weeks. I lost a child. A child I had hopes and dreams for. Eleven weeks in utero or eleven years on earth… I still am not supposed to outlive my child. I am sad. Drugs won’t make my sadness go away.

I was hurt. This is my mother whom I’m very close to. I always feel able to tell her anything. And now I know I won’t anymore. Not this. This is mine to hold—not to hurt. I went in my house, sat on the stairs and held back tears.

And then I thought about it…

I already tell myself that the words come from a good place. And in my head I repeat the mantra “It’s from a good place, it’s from a good place.”

But recently, I’ve added another thought: “I’m so glad they don’t understand.” To understand is to have lost. That’s the only way someone really “gets it.” They too lost a child like I lost a child. They too wept for their baby, their dreams and their innocence.

I would never wish that hurt on anyone. No matter how much they hurt me. I don’t want them to understand—most especially not my mom. that understanding comes at such a high price. And I would never, ever, ever want any one else to pay that price.

My price is enough.

So please don't get me wrong. I am so happy for my friends. I am always happy for new babies to be brought into the world. I'm just sad that one of those new babies isn't my baby. 

Yet.