A repeat: My Bittersweet Friday

A few days ago, my friend was bemoaning the loss of a file that she had kept on her computer of emails from her husband, emails from coworkers when she had her baby and one particular one from me that I sent her awhile after Nate was born. That email was originally posted on one of my previous blog incarnations to which a few people sent me emails directly commenting on it, one of which I still have:
I told you long ago that you had things to say and for once, I was right. Your blog entry was the most powerful thng I've read in a long time. The images you evoked, of the mom stroking her daughter's hair, and the poignancy of the loss you feel in your own life really resonated.

You're quite the writer.

Luckily I kept the email that I originally sent to my friend so I resent it to her but re-reading this and along with Bone's recent blog entry, I thought I'd post it again.

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The pleasant part: It was beautiful to finally see my friend with the baby after having tried for so long, spent so much money, put her body through all the hormonal changes that comes with needing medical intervention to conceive and then go on to have a somewhat difficult pregnancy. They didn't know what it was during the last 8.5 months but she kept referring to it as a 'she' whenever she talked about it and I figured it would be since my friend was always right...except this time. It's a boy.

I went to work on Friday, hoping to make it to 12:30 and then go to the hospital but once I got the bulk of my work done by 9:30 a.m. and she had went from 5 cm to 8 cm overnight, I knew I didn't want to sit around there. I'd rather do it at the hospital. I actually was the first one there when I arrived and I was able to be in her room until the delivery part 4.5 hours later. Her parents arrived maybe 30 minutes after I did. It was fun to be with them and to watch the monitor that showed the baby's heartbeat on one line and the strength of the contractions on the other. While my friend was a bit doped up and sleepy (not to mention incredibly itchy from the epidural which is the first thing she told me when I walked in for when/if my time comes and it's one of those things that no one passes on to the future pregnant women), I got to hear the family stories of when she was born or as a little girl from her mom and her grandmother. I got to see Nate about 30 minutes after he was born and hold him shortly after. 10 little fingers and 10 little toes. Isn't it all amazing?

The painful part: I've growned accustomed to living the normal day-to-day life without feeling pain or sadness or unfairness of the fact that I don't have my parents around. I have even reached the point where I can see the Mother's Day and Father's Day paraphenalia that comes out a month before the actual day and it doesn't have that affect on me. Same with their birthdays, the days that they died or Christmas. It all produces pleasant memories instead.

On the few occasions where I know it will have an adverse affect on me, I try to prepare myself for it such as when my brother got married a couple of years ago and the empty front pew. Seeing my nephew for the first time 3 months after he is born and having to leave. The 'preparation' rarely works. It's really hard not to lay your head down and weep at the unfairness of it all in an airport terminal after having to say good bye to that cute little thing that would have been adored by his grandparents or not to feel the emptiness of the front pew.

I was totally unprepared for what I felt on Friday when her mom came into the room and just watching her reaction to the events the whole day. Seeing her hover near her daughter, stroking her arm or leg, brushing her hair, helping her readjust her hospital gown when she moved, getting her anything she needed and just being a calming influence finally made me feel the pain and unfairness of not having my mom around for myself rather than feeling it for others like I had. My mom had always been a wonderful caretaker to someone who was sick or injured and at a time like giving birth, a girl just needs her mom. I won't have that when my time comes. Yes, I have a very nice mother-in-law whom I like a lot and the husband has some of those same soothing qualities but it's not the same thing. Like the saying goes, 'A son is a son until he takes a wife, but a daughter is a daughter for the rest of her life.'

So my weekend has been spent moping while trying to adjust to this realization. Someone once told me that at times like this is when we are closest to the ones that we've lost. That may be true but I'm just tired of always having to adjust.