I was at the doctor’s office the other day and this woman comes in with twins and sits right freakin’ next to me – in an almost empty waiting room. Her entrance was grand and a little exagerated in my opinion as she loudly expressed how difficult it is to juggle 2 babies in a double stroller into the room.
“Who’s hungry?” she asks both babies in an annoying high-pitched voice. When they smile or coo she laughs and looks in my direction waiting for me to join the other ladies in the room that are pandering to her. I don’t…I don’t give in.
Part of me feels like she is expecting everyone to be happy with her or for her. Sorry lady, not everybody has a happy birth story to share, not everyone is as blissfully ignorant as you. Yet another part of me acknowledges that I am very close to being just as rediculous with Ziggy as she was with her lot. The only difference is that I won’t shove it down the throat of others.
After my losses I felt (and still somewhat do) that the only way I could be connected to Emi and Daniella was through sadness, tears and bitterness. I’m almost convinced that it won’t always be this way…but I still can’t quite let go of those ill feelings. Those feelings have hardened my heart and my resolve and helped carry me through the worst of my grief and the lowest, darkest moments of my life.