I’ve been having a crying jag today. They don’t happen very often anymore. Weeks at a time can go by, and they usually go as fast as they come. At least I had some warning this one was coming. The last big cry was when I showed Daddy the movie An American Tale. At the end, (and yes, Mommy is going to spoil the ending because you’re a smart boy and you would figure it out in seconds) when the family is reunited, and they’re hugging and crying and Mama Mousekewitz says “Oh my little boy, back from the dead?” Yeah. I kind of lost it. It was over in less than a minute, and then I felt like I’d been in a hit-and-run accident. I actually said “What the hell just happened to me?” to Daddy.
This one was gradual. I had a frustrating day at work–nothing important really, just stupid social stuff that I don’t understand. A coworker shooting vile looks at me and snapping at me. She and another gossiping away and doing that kind of over-the-shoulder glances and smirks in my direction. No idea why, but most of the time the social situation there is pretty high-schoolish. And I was feeling irritated about that, because really? We just make coffee, there’s no need for this absurd game-playing. And I was thinking about how, when one of them was pregnant (the one who has a baby 2 months younger than you would be) they were all extra-kind to her, going out of their way to ask how she was, etc. I didn’t get included in a lot of that, but I shrugged it off as best I could. I’m not popular there, and I don’t particularly care most of the time. Besides, she was much sicker than I was.
Now it’s extremely awkward with most of them if I make reference to the new pregnancy. I know part of that is because I didn’t act all excited when I told them–largely because I was vomiting constantly and generally would say outright “I’ll be very excited when I stop barfing.” And probably part of it is because I’m not as excited as they think I “should” be. Losing a baby (technically, two) kind of does that–I am cautious. And I don’t even know if I can put on a carefree oh-boy-new-baby optimism, nor do I think I should just so that they approve of how I feel about my own fucking children.
I’m rambling about work. I hate it when I do that. But it was really bothering me (as it regularly does). And then said coworker came in, baby in tow, to pick something up. And brought the baby around back, where she was handed around gleefully. I have never felt more unwelcome in a circle. Not only did I not get a chance to hold the baby, if I came near her everyone got tense and weird about it. And when I cooed at her, there was a lot of “oh, you’re scaring her, she’s going to cry” going on. Because apparently I coo like pure evil. And the baby was whisked away immediately, lest I inflict my DeadBabyCooties all over her, I assume.
I know how bitter I sound. I am bitter. There is a lot of bad blood that I simply don’t acknowledge. Because I’m “just here to work” and “do the job as best I can” and never, ever take part in the backstabbing bitchiness that’s there. And it hurts to see that baby–see her living and thriving and being cooed over and fussed about and so on and so forth, when I can’t even show a picture of you because people think it’s “morbid” and “creepy.” Their words, mind you. Not that I was offering to show them. Yes, and it was “crazy” that we had a memorial service for you.
Certainly, no one would have considered that about the least pleasant experience to be treated as if I were some kind of leper about the whole thing. Maybe I ought to sew a scarlet letter on my stupid apron. Warn the innocent, that sort of thing.
Anyway. I got home feeling in a funk about the whole thing, and eventually I just put on my Must Cry Now playlist and let it happen. It feels a little better now. I haven’t been able to cry like that since I got pregnant again; every time I started to really cry I’d get nauseous and throw up. At least with the meds I can have this release.
I had meant to sit down and write about the back-and-forth feelings I’ve been having about this new baby and about you, but I guess that isn’t really what I wanted to write about after all. I’m sure that will come in time. For now I think I better take my next dose of NoPukePills and have a snack.