Sunday, March 3, 2013

That should be us

I try to go to the store at obscure times, in the attempt to save my heart from the pain of seeing living, breathing, babbling babies.

Last night, Bryan and I went to get groceries at 9:45. We made it all the way to the check out without a single baby in sight.

But, of course, it was too much to ask to have a non-baby shopping experince. Just as we were trapped in the checkout, too far in to back out but not yet our turn, a couple with a baby about Samuel's age got in the line right next to ours.

I kid you not, it went like this.

Baby boy in his seat: "coo, coo, babble-babble" (happiest-baby-alive noises)
His mother: joyous laughter and cooing back to him.
Everyone one in line around us: "oh, he's so cute...oh, oh" (blah, blah, blah)

My heart: exploding noises

I probably looked like I wanted to kill everyone in line, because Bryan gave me a "yeah, I know" look.

I talked myself down. "It's okay. He's actually not a cute baby and that's sad for his family" (yep, when I need to try not to break down, I criticize the's what I do). "and who brings a baby to the store at 10pm?!?"(step two, criticize the parents).

Well, they quickly checked out and moved to the doors. We finished checking out and started walking towards them. For reasons unknown, they stood just cooing over their baby in the doorway until we walked past, then, right on cue, the walked out with us. (Seriously!?) And, guess what? They were parked right next to us! (In the entire world of the parking lot...right next to us.)

I angrily threw the groceries in the car and started driving home. About 2 minutes in, Bryan looked at me and just knew I wasn't okay. I guess I wasn't hiding it well.

He asked and I broke down. Huge sob-fest, right in the middle of the highway.

All I could squeak out was this:  "That should be us".

 What a mess.

1 comment:

  1. I am so deeply sorry about your little Samuel. I can relate to *every single thing* you wrote in this post. We lost our daughter just this past October to a fatal genetic disorder. She was diagnosed (sort of) at 18 weeks, and I carried her until almost 32 weeks. She lived just a few hours.

    Your blog is the first I've found of another mom who has carried a baby with a poor prognosis. Not sure if I want to go back and read a whole lot of your posts right now (I'm sure you probably get that - reliving someone else's experience is almost as painful as living through your own). But over time, I'd like to read more.

    Don't know if it helps you any - but know that a mom out in North Carolina has cried with you today.


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