I think it's human nature to want to try to make things better, to somehow "fix" what is broken, whenever things go wrong. This being said, sometimes I wish people didn't have this instinct. I wish more people could just say, "what happened to Stevie just sucks," and leave it at that. I can't tell you how many statements I've heard that start with "at least."
- At least you're young. Because it's harder and harder to deal with your child dying the older you get? I'm pretty sure it sucks whether you're 19 or 24 or 39 or 45.
- At least you know you can get pregnant. Well this was one hell of a way to figure that one out.
- At least you can have more kids. This is not a given, actually. If I've learned anything during the last month, it's that there are no guarantees in life, especially given my awesome luck.
- At least you still have Andy. True. But is it really so much to ask to have my husband and our first child?
- At least [insert other really horrible tragedy here] didn't happen to you. Yes, I guess I should be happy that I didn't lose my baby and have the rest of my family die in an earthquake the same day, or lose my baby on top of having cancer, or lose more than one baby. But knowing that other people have gone through worse things than I have doesn't make me feel any better about my own tragedy.
- At least you didn't gain that much weight and already have your old body back. I would do anything to have some stretch marks and extra flab if it meant I could have my baby here with me.
- At least none of your close friends are pregnant or have babies. This is true, and I am actually really thankful that I'm not surrounded by what I don't have, but since none of my best friends have ever been pregnant before, I'm not sure they can really understand the enormity of my loss; until you've been pregnant and bonded with your unborn child, you can't possibly understand how it feels to have that child die inside of you.
- At least she died before she was born. I would have literally died to see her open her eyes, or smile, or hold onto my finger, even just once.
- At least you got to take a whole month of off work. My four-week leave has been no "vacation," I can promise you that. I should have had a whole 12 weeks off with my new daughter, not a month off to physically recover from delivering a dead baby. What I would give to have been at work, pregnant, the last four weeks.
I'm sorry I'm so negative today, Stevie. I guess I'm just in one of those moods. I must be in the midst of my "anger" stage of grief (stage 3 out of 7 I think? I best go consult my stack of pregnancy loss books to find out!) As a little kid, I was always great at expressing my anger, but hated admitting when I was sad. I remember this one time when a couple of my neighborhood friends really hurt my feelings by not inviting me to a sleepover they were planning or something. I was crying to my mom and I just kept repeating, "I'm just so mad!" My mom said something like, "You're not mad, you're sad."
Mommy's sad, Baby. Really, really sad.
I love you so much little girl.