Off my chest...

Okay, life is great. I am sleep deprived and stupid, but BB is the most wonderful child ever born. So, no real complaints.

I am thinking about a lot of stuff (3 a.m. feedings will do that to you). So I am going to try and get them out of my brain, hopefully quickly while BB sleeps.

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Laugh now - I thought that I would be able to do more while BB slept. HA HA HA! I bet every woman fools herself into that. BB is an excellent sleeper - I can't even imagine life with colic.

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I just got an email from work. It seems as though my department will be undergoing an audit in the coming months - I won't be there, hooray! However, I noticed that the resumes of the auditors were attached and one was that of a person I went to school with. So, curious, I looked at it. It seems as though I am listed as a reference. No, I was never asked. No, I would not give her a reference, if asked. I am furious.

My anger goes further than this issue. We were once friends. That ended 2 years, one month, and one week ago. When this person heard through the grapevine that C. had died and she decided SHE needed to inform everyone that I went to school with. She sent an email out to a mailing list of people informing them of our "news". The information was incorrect. One of my real friends received it, and sent a correction email, after informing me of what had happened.

This woman sent the email for one reason only - for the GLORY of delivering bad news. She was showing off. It made her look like she was a caring person involved in my life (not true). I have not spoken to her even ONCE since C. was born. Yep - she is a bitch and I hate her. She is not caring or empathetic, she is just a gossip.

This burns at me every time I think of her. I think about all sorts of horrible things to say to her, if I ever am in the same room as her again. I know too much about her past - I am armed with all sorts of horrible knowledge that I could use against her. I don't think that I would be a big enough person to pass up the opportunity of hurting her the way she hurt me. Or at least, trying to hurt her that badly.

Sadly, we were close once. Good thing I won't have to attend this audit.

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I find myself sitting feeding in the middle of the night, thinking through all the intimate details of C.'s death and the immediate aftermath. Planning the funeral. What it felt like to push him out. What it felt like to hold him in my arms. It just washes over me.

I don't have the mental energy to devote to my grieving, so it hides around corners and blindsides me. And I essentially missed C's birthday, what with being in labour and all. I don't regret that. Did I mention that BB's umbilical cord was wrapped (loosely, mind you) around his neck? Yeah. Glad we stuck to the plan of early induction. Very glad that the nurses delayed upping the pitocin so that BB was born the day after his brother's birthday. Still, I wish that I had been able to devote my mind and energy to marking that day for C. Though, when that line turned pink in May, we knew that our January was going to be very different. I look forward to BB joining us in next year's celebration of that day.

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Things with my mother have improved slightly. There are things in her own life that she is starting to deal with, so the stress is a little less for her. Nonetheless, I have to deal with pussyfooting around her "feelings" all the time. I hurt her all the time, because I am so insensitive. Frankly, my patience for her is wearing thin. I am used to treading softly around her - that has been our relationship for my whole life. However, the more I think about it, the more I think that SHE should be somewhat respectful of the stress and hormones and fear that I have dealt with through this subsequent pregnancy. And she just doesn't get it. She thinks that I should have confided in her, basically since C. died. Reminding myself that she is one of the worst offenders when it comes to telling me that my grief responses are inappropriate and that I should "get over it" or "cut people some slack" when they say hurtful things. Yeah. She has never been and will never be my confidante.

The good news is that she hasn't made any disturbing phone calls recently. The bad news is that I doubt that much more time will pass before that call does come.

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I am so late on this Dear Abby thing. I am sure, from reading blogs and message boards, etc. that Ms. Abby understands our point of view. Frankly, if it is okay for people to have photos of their kids in their cubes, then it is okay for ANY of their kids. Policy has to apply equally to all. Living kids okay? Then dead kids okay, too. Besides, the idiot who wrote the letter was obviously totally self-involved, even though she claimed to understand that the woman "felt sad".

Since I didn't write to Abby, I want to congratulate all of you who did.

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I hate TV. I watch it while I feed BB. Why? It sucks. So I watched Love Actually the other day on DVD instead. Seen it lately? If no, then rent it. I cried the whole time because there was so much beauty in it.

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I have to decide if I am going to my high school reunion. God. It just terrifies me. How many kids do you have? Is this your first? From the 60 other people I graduated with, which feels like about a million years ago. And, frankly, it is still all a popularity contest, isn't it? You can live your life as a normal adult human being when you are living your life, but go back to high school? It's going to be who is successful, who is fat, who is happy, who is gay, etc. There are a few people that I would love to see. But the deadbaby specter that I live with adds a dimension of fear to this decision that I am not sure that I want to face.

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We took BB to church today for the first time. He was quite the rock star. The average age of our congregation is probably 70, so all the Oldies are totally enamoured by him. Besides the fact that he is totally amazing.

There were kids there from a local bible college who asked to see him. They asked if he was our first, I said no. They didn't ask the typical follow-up questions, so they didn't get the deadbaby answer they weren't expecting. They don't know how lucky they were to sidestep that one, hey?

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So there you have it. All the stuff bouncing in my head. Now, I am thrilled to go deal with some poopie.