The Christmas Outfit

 

This is a difficult hub for me to write. I've spent the past few days trying to come up with some other topic for a Christmas hub...any other topic for a hub, but this one. It's like a broken tooth though. Despite my attempts to avoid thinking about it, my mental tongue continues to explore the damage, running it's sinuous form over the jagged edges, testing for any painful reaction. There's a dull ache...it never goes completely away...but most days, it has receded to a point where I can tolerate it. Just as long as I don't explore it too deeply. When I do...I have this tendency to lose sleep. It's my fault. My mother always said picking at a wound will prevent it from healing. It's just that sometimes I have an issue with following my mother's good advice and I scrape off the scab to see if the injury still runs as deep.

I never wanted children of my own. It was my own private joke, shared with those close to me that I I'd been born without a biological clock. While my friends and siblings were procreating like mad, I remained aloof. When their children were born, I would stand off to the side and gaze upon their wrinkly little infants with a horrified look on my face and thank god that my life did not involve these alien creatures.

Oddly enough, I love children and by some strange twist of the absurd, they love me back. This love of children does not start until the kid has reached one year of age though. Before that, in my opinion they weren't quite "done" yet...and to the amusement of their mothers, I would cringe when offered their baby to hold. My sisters would laugh when I told them that my nieces and nephews were still in what I called "the larval stage" and that I'd be more than happy to hold them once they had more control over their enormous heads.

It was all a show of course. The truth was that I was very simply afraid. It's not what you think though. Pregnancy and childbirth? A snap. So I'd be in agonizing pain for days trying to force a cantelope through uh....something not used to dealing with things the size of a cantelope. No sweat...what's a little physical suffering? So, no...that's not what I was afraid of...

I had read somewhere that children raised in emotionally, physically or sexually abusive environments have a tendency to take this baggage with them as adults. My father had been horrifically tortured by his mother and he brought those demons to our family. I forgave my father years ago for what he did and we are actually good friends now, on my terms. I'm not a saint for this...nor am I a fool for building a relationship with this man despite what he did. I did it for me.

It has taken most of my life to undo what was done to me as a child. For the most part I've succeeded and you'd never know. It isn't too difficult, since that's what I've been doing my entire life. I put on my "normal person" face and I step out into the world. But on the journey to being this person, I discovered one very big truth. Everyone puts on the same face every day and my story, although personally horrifying, is not unusual. In fact...sometimes my experiences sounded like a pathetic whine against some inconsequential act when compared to some of the stories told to me by other abuse survivors. So who am I to complain?

I Don'T Want To Live On The Moon

Baby of Mine (Allison Kraus Version)

It was important to get past what happened to me, turn on the light, flush it out of the closet and decide how to deal with it. I chose a two prong attack. First, I would make my own peace with it...and then I would make sure that this particular family inheritance ended with me. I knew I had my father's violent temper. When I'm angry, rationality takes a vacation and because it doesn't want to bear witness either, my logical mind blocks it out and occasionally I have no memory of what I may have done. Over time, I've managed to control my anger by removing myself from the source...even placing barriers between me and the person or thing that has driven me to this point. But the anger is still there, simmering like a rancid pool waiting for a reason to overflow its banks.

It's not as big as it once was. But in my teens and twenties...I saw it as a vast ocean of fury, drowning everything within its grasp, eroding the shores, consuming me slowly. It didn't need any more fuel to feed it...and that is why I forgave my father and decided that I had more important things to do in my life than play judge and jury to his crime. If there is a heaven and hell, if there is an accounting for your deeds in an afterlife, let him be judged then.

There are just some things you don't risk. With the danger of becoming as abusive as my parent seen as a viable threat, the very thought of having a child of my own paralyzed me with fear. What if despite all of the best intentions, I lose my temper with this small innocent being? No, it wasn't fair...but it was the safest choice. No kids. And over time I had myself convinced that I wasn't missing anything.

And then in 2001, I became pregnant. My boyfriend, who later became my husband (although not because I was pregnant), didn't want it. He had two daughters from his previous marriage...why couldn't I be satisfied with having them every other weekend? I couldn't think of a single reason not to. I was thirty-nine years old, in a stable relationship that I was sure would lead eventually to a "we may as well be married" type of future. I had a great job with fabulous benefits. So...I pointed Ed to the door and told him that he didn't have to stay if he didn't want to. He chose to stay.

Ed made my life hell for the first few months, playing the sulky boy that did not get his way. But when the ultrasound showed us an amazing picture of our little boy, yawning right into the camera before rolling over and mooning us...Ed fell apart and broke into tears of joy. His son. I was going to give him the son he had always wanted.

I called him Michael "Moo" which stood for "My One and Only." That entire summer and fall, I built my world around him. I stitched pillows, decorations and stuffed animals for his room. I downloaded from Napster all sorts of songs that I thought a child would like and I burned a CD for him. My favorites were Ernie singing "I Don't Want to Live on the Moon" and "Baby of Mine" from the movie "Dumbo". Besides that, I began to fill a binder with stories for him...about his family, his pets and the things I wanted him to know about. I told him I was writing it so that he would never doubt for a moment how much he was loved. If he was ever blue, all he would have to do was open that binder and read.

The doctor and midwives teased me mercilessly about my constantly cheerful disposition. They all wondered when I'd start behaving like a cranky woman, complaining about how difficult being pregnant was. It never was though. Michael was...easy to be with. He kept me company 24/7 and listened to me when I felt like talking. Toward the end of the pregnancy, he decided I was working too hard and with a swift kick would send my keyboard flying back beneath the desk when he'd had enough. Every moment, every experience of that pregnancy was looked at with wonder. It was a new experience and one I probably wouldn't have again.

But the most amazing thing about the experience was the purity of love that I felt for this person that I hadn't even met yet. I knew that no matter what, I would always love him. I'd never felt that before and even now, as I ransack my memory trying to recapture the essence of that emotion, it eludes me. Just as I get my fingers around the edge of the memory and try to tug it closer, the fabric of it unravels and I can only get a sense of it. It was big...and it consumed me much the same as anger had once upon a time. But instead of trying to remove myself from it, placing barricades between myself and the overwhelming force of it....I ran to it and embraced it with every particle of my being. It filled me up completely and chased the darkness from my soul. I knew that it would be impossible for me to harm something so precious to me and that knowledge gave me peace. Well, the heartburn wasn't a hell of a lot of fun...but I wasn't about to complain about something so trivial.

Michael's due date was December 25th, 2002. I had already written in his book that when he was older, he could choose any day of the year to celebrate his birthday because I knew it would kind of suck to have a birthday fall on Christmas. See what a cool Mom I was already? Some of the gifts that we received were of a holiday nature. Ed's mother had sent me an adorable Christmas outfit that was red and white and had "Baby's 1st Christmas" embroidered on it in gold thread. The only question remained was how close to Christmas would Michael arrive?

Two weeks before his birth date, I had a dream. I was in a beautiful city of white marble, being given a tour by a rather tall young man who had a cheerful face and a friendly smile. He slipped his hand into mine and introduced me to everyone. I was a bit embarrassed and my first thought was, "Damn...I'm old enough to be his mother!" I looked into his eyes, noticing how they sparkled merrily as if he was enjoying a very good secret. They looked so familiar to me...somehow...those eyes. It was a happy group, chattering about all the wonderful things they had seen, eagerly anticipating lunch. They seemed like really nice people and they looked up to this young man seated by my side. As I gazed at him again, I noticed that he had a serious expression. "What is it?" I asked with a sinking feeling in my stomach. He took my hand again and gave it a tender squeeze.

"I wish I could have stayed," he said. "I really think it would have been wonderful. I love you, Mom..."

And then I awoke, my heart beating fast...my hand lying protectively over my belly. It was just a dream I told myself. Pregnant women always have crazy dreams...don't they? It's just my subconscious trying to cause trouble and invent problems where none exist.

The next day, something wasn't right. I'm not sure when I knew but I remember pulling over to the side of the dark, snowy road on the way home from work and running my hand over my rounded belly crying over and over again, "Don't go. Don't leave me." The next day, the doctor confirmed that Michael had basically pulled the plug by tearing the umbilical cord. It was just something that happened...and nothing I could have prevented.

On a freakishly warm Saturday in December, while the heavens opened up and poured water from the sky by the bucketful, I gave birth to Michael. It was something I was committed to doing even though I knew it would be hard. It's difficult enough to go through labor and childbirth when you anticipate a happy ending...but when you know the outcome is an exercise in futility, it takes sheer determination to see it through. I was fortunate. My midwife was a dear friend and my younger sister was an obstetrical nurse at this hospital. But just for sanity, I also had my youngest sister present. When I need strength, I look to her.

I did this for Michael. And when I held him for the first time, admiring all of his perfect little fingers and toes, noticing the fit of his tiny bottom into the palm of my hand and I touched his fragile cheek with a gentle caress from my clumsy finger for the first time...I realized that this changed nothing. I still loved him. Even more, I was so proud of him. The only thing that would honor him would be to make him proud of me too.

While others were quietly and not so quietly crying in the same room...I was smiling. No, I wasn't unhinged by grief although it was probably padded by a few pain killing drugs...it was genuine. Finally, I could put a face to the person I loved most in all the world.

It was the most depressing Christmas I have ever known. But if you asked me for details, they are wrapped in fuzzy gauze and my mind has decided to preserve itself by refusing to recall it with complete clarity. I can best describe myself as numb...and none of it caused by alcohol or drugs. It was a natural numbness.

The only times I can remember completely are those that involve doing something because I felt compelled to do it in memory of my son. I baked Christmas cookies for the staff that had been working the night I was in the hospital. They had been so caring, even going so far as to draw the curtains in the nursery every time I escaped my room. They left me to grieve in my own way without intruding, but accompanied me graciously on my walks around the hospital.

There remained just one thing I wanted to do...or rather, that I had a strong feeling Michael wanted me to do. I stood there in Michael's room, caressing the tiny Christmas outfit while a small voice whispered, "Give it away...as a gift...from me."

I explained my idea to my sister, the nurse, and she took my idea to the staff of doctors to see if my request would be considered proper. None of them saw anything odd with my request, but my doctor asked if he could be given the honor of being the one to do it. I agreed.

On Christmas day a baby was born...just one, a little girl. While her parents were marveling over their new daughter, my doctor politely knocked on the door and asked if he could have a moment. He took a seat and told them the story of Michael and asked if they would be willing to accept a gift from him for their daughter, who was born on Christmas day.

A month or two later, I received a letter along with a picture of the most beautiful baby girl wallowing in a Christmas suit with gold embroidering that said "Baby's 1st Christmas." The young couple thanked me for Michael's thoughtful gift and explained how much it meant to them to one day be able to tell this story to their little girl. I was thrilled that not only had the gift been accepted, but that it had been accepted in the spirit with which it was given.

Sometimes the grief of it all is still there, especially at Christmas. Sometimes it's just awkward. When people ask me if I have children...do I say yes, do I say no...I don't want to have to explain all the time. The same thing happens when I encounter happy expectant couples or parents that foist their children on me with a thoughtless remark like, "you wouldn't be so thrilled to spend time with them if you were a parent." It's not their fault. They don't realize they are wielding a knife that cuts deeply and wounds. And again...I don't want to have to explain. It's just easier to absorb the unintentional gouging of the blade and the pain it causes rather than enlighten them and make them feel horrible.

So that's my Christmas story...and now you know something about me that I don't often share. Every year on December 14th, I buy a half dozen helium filled balloons and release them to heaven with a happy birthday wish. On my Christmas tree hangs an angel ornament with Michael's name and it is a tradition to place it on the highest bough where it is easily seen.

I am sad for all the possibilities that will never be realized, but if I focused only on my loss, I would miss everything that I gained in the short time I shared my life with Michael. He taught me about love...and how if you can find the courage to embrace it with your entire being, there is no room for anger, hatred or fear.

I wish all of you a Merry Christmas filled with that type of love.

Merry Christmas to all my "Hub" friends

More by this Author


Comments 47 comments

spryte profile image

spryte 7 years ago from Arizona, USA Author

Mandy -

I'm so sad for your friend's loss and I hope that she is doing okay. A friend of mine wrtoe a poem for me after the loss of Michael and it touched me very deeply. I'm sure that your friend appreciates your sentiments just as much. Any gift from the heart is always cherished...and you sound like a friend that understands that completely.

Hugs back to you!


Mandy76 profile image

Mandy76 7 years ago from Mount Shasta, California

Spryte, I am absolutely consumed by tears. Your writing is beautiful and genuine and poetic. Your story enlightening, encouraging, and so utterly sad all at the same time. Thank you for sharing.

I have a friend who lost a child in a very similar way. New Years for her though. One of my hubs is a poem about thier daughter.. It's called About Alice. At this moment though I'm sure I didn't come close to capturing the intense emotion that engulfed that event... You, however, did it beautifully.

Warmth and light to you,

M


spryte profile image

spryte 7 years ago from Arizona, USA Author

Guitarnut:

Thank you for such a lovely comment. I've never had my work compared to Michelangelo before and I must admit that I enjoyed hearing that compliment very much. It also does my heart good to know that the effort put into this story did it justice...so I thank you again for letting me know that it ovewhelmed you with emotion.


Guitarnut 7 years ago

I must say that I haven't been so moved in a very long time. My heart goes out to you more than you know. What a touching, bittersweet story. Words simply fail me.

You paint with your words as eloquently as Michelangelo utilized oils. This story, exactly as it is written, needs to be read. I sincerely mean that. You should definitely be submitting this story to publishers for print media. Wow. I am simply overwhelmed.


spryte profile image

spryte 8 years ago from Arizona, USA Author

Misty: Never say never! I was 39 when it caught me completely off guard. I hope the same happens for you.

Patricia: :) Now that description sounded TRULY painful! I'm deathly afraid of knives btw...so even though I understood completely what you were saying, I was wincing at the same time. LOL! *hugs* to you!

Naughty: Thank you for the hugs and the holiday wishes!

Princessa: I appreciate your honesty...always. Just knowing that you've read what I wrote is as comforting to me as a million words of sympathy. Thank you very much for commenting.

*Wraps Sixty up in a big spryte hug* Some day we should get together and do some Christmas tequila shots, okay?


sixtyorso profile image

sixtyorso 8 years ago from South Africa

Spryte I am truly humbled to know that my story gave you the courage to write your brilliant,beautiful and painful story.


Princessa profile image

Princessa 8 years ago from France

What a courageous person you are sharing your story with us. It is difficult to leave a comment, but I wanted you to know that I read your story and that it touched me.

All the best!


naughty by nature profile image

naughty by nature 8 years ago from Pasadena, California

aw...tear jerking story again...hugs and kisses to you hon...

Advance Merry Christmas!!!! =)


Patricia Costanzo profile image

Patricia Costanzo 8 years ago from Behind the Redwood Curtain

Spryte, thank you for your bravery in writing this Christmas story. When someone fillets them selves open as you have, we are all left wounded and sobbing with you. Some how we're a little more human together. Love & Light -p


mistyhorizon2003 profile image

mistyhorizon2003 8 years ago from Guernsey (Channel Islands)

Fair enough, all good reasons, but it is a shame as I am sure you are the perfect Mother. I am 38 now, and panicking for the age reason. My time is running short, and without being able to afford IVF I simply have to pray that I am blessed enough to get pregnant a second time, even though it is against all the odds.


spryte profile image

spryte 8 years ago from Arizona, USA Author

Unlikely...for three reasons:

1) I'm 45 years old and while some people seem to have no issue with having children at that age...I think it's irrational.

2) If I became pregnant, it would have to be an immaculate conception since my husband is no longer a viable donor to the cause

3) I'm content with my life as it is.


mistyhorizon2003 profile image

mistyhorizon2003 8 years ago from Guernsey (Channel Islands)

Thank you for such reassuring words and for understanding. Do you think you will try again at some point for another baby?


spryte profile image

spryte 8 years ago from Arizona, USA Author

Misty - {{hugs}} Don't you dare feel terrible. I'm a very strong proponent of choice and although I was at a point in my life where I felt there were no financial impediments and that I had the maturity level to be a parent, I would never dream of sitting in judgement of another woman's choice, much less pointing a finger in accusation.

You made a very tough choice...one based on whatever information you had at the time. It's all we can do and I understand that completely.

As for other children...there was a reason I called him "Moo" (My one and only).

I hope that someday you are able to have the child or children that you want. Despite the outcome, or even knowing the outcome...I would willingly do it again. That's how much it changed my life and for the better.

Dottie - Thank you for your wonderful wishes :) I always feel that Michael is closest to me during the holiday season...my own personal angel.


Dottie1 profile image

Dottie1 8 years ago from MA, USA

Dearest Spryte....such a tender and heartfelt story of your beautiful Christmas Outfit.  May peace and love surround you abundantly this Holiday Season.  Bless you Always ~Dottie~


mistyhorizon2003 profile image

mistyhorizon2003 8 years ago from Guernsey (Channel Islands)

Spryte, I am so sorry I was not here to comment on this hub when you published it. Reading it has had me in tears too, and I even told my Husband about it. Having made the mistake of choosing a termination over going through with the only pregnancy I ever had (by some miracle and against all the odds), it makes me feel terrible that I gave up something so precious based on lack of finance and family support, when someone who really wanted and loved their baby to be, lost theirs through no fault of their own. I now want a baby so badly, I hope I have some idea of how you must feel having been cheated of having one so close to term.

I do believe the dream you had was a visitation, from how you described it, and happened for a reason. Michael will be with you always, and he needed to let you know how much he loved you, and always would.

I cannot adequately put into words how your hub has made me feel, but suffice to say I will never forget it, and my thoughts and prayers are truly with you. I hope you have the opportunity to have a child of your own at some point, much like I would love to.


spryte profile image

spryte 8 years ago from Arizona, USA Author

Amanda - I'm flattered by the comparison, thank you :) And I agree with you 100% that children are so very precious.

Sally - I wish I had your talent for difficulty with words...and still managing to convey a sentiment that touched my heart. The fact that it remained on your mind.... Thank you for sharing that thought.


Sally's Trove profile image

Sally's Trove 8 years ago from Southeastern Pennsylvania

Like so many others commenting, I, too, am having difficulty with words. I read your gift a few minutes after you published, it's been on my mind since, yet I'm still at a loss. So I'll add my thanks to the others commenting here not only for your brave sharing but also for the way you are able to so profoundly touch the heart and soul.


Amanda Severn profile image

Amanda Severn 8 years ago from UK

Spryte,

Very few things I've ever read have moved me to tears, so you're right up there with the greats (Steinbecks 'East of Eden' and Charlotte Brontes 'Jane Eyre' both spring to mind, but there's a few others!) My heart goes out to you. Our children are not only precious, they're also an enormous privelege, no matter how briefly we know them and are able to share their lives, and this comes across so clearly in your writing. You're very brave to write this. Thank you for sharing.


spryte profile image

spryte 8 years ago from Arizona, USA Author

Funnebone - I have the same problem when it comes to writing anything of a side-splitting humorous nature, so I am always in awe of your ability.  The world needs laughter more than tears...well, that's my opinion...and I always look forward to reading whatever you have written.  Thank you for such a wonderful comment.  *hugs*

SwPie & Marian - {{hugs}} to both of you.  I have no words...but thank you.


Marian Swift profile image

Marian Swift 8 years ago from San Francisco Bay Area

This is so powerful. I don't know what to say (having trouble seeing the screen just now, anyway). Your sharing Michael with us was an incredible, courageous gift. Thank you.


SweetiePie profile image

SweetiePie 8 years ago from Southern California, USA

I am sad for your loss, but I like how Michael gave you the strength to go on and his blessing to give the outfit to another coupling. This is a bittersweet Christmas story to remember, but I did cry.


funnebone profile image

funnebone 8 years ago from Philadelphia Pa

I often sit wanting to write about the things that challenge my will to live. I start many of my writing very strong, much like you did, but then am unable to bring myself to either reccollect or recount past or current events and emotions. I am impressed by your ability to articulate in such a manner and by your ability to reflect in such a courageous and inspirational way.


spryte profile image

spryte 8 years ago from Arizona, USA Author

Jeri: In this thing, I wish there were no others that shared my experience. My heartfelt condolences to you as well and although I can't tell the difference between entiendo and comprendo...I understand (with experience). *hugs*

aj, Kiki & KT - I wish I had some kleenex to share with all of you, but I seemed to run out about 3/4 of the way through writing this.

Mellissa - Thank you in so many ways for writing that comment. I always smile when I see a kindred spirit that understands the message completely. Big hubs back to you!


Melissa G profile image

Melissa G 8 years ago from Tempe, AZ

Spryte, thank you for sharing this magical story. The love you have for your son is beautiful and inspiring, and as I sat here reading and choking back tears, I was impressed with the magnitude of your affection for him, and your ability to write this in such a moving and heartfelt manner. As a sensitive person, I try not to open the floodgates too often, because once I get started, it's not pretty--so I'm trying to focus on the good here, and it comes through in abundance--the spirit of your gift to the other family is an incredibly touching reminder of how generous and kind humans can be, even in the face of tragedy, and the dream you had reaffirms my belief in the interconnectedness of our souls. Thank you again for having the courage to write this, and for reminding us all about what truly matters. Sending you a BIG hug across the ethers...


Kiki Stamatiou profile image

Kiki Stamatiou 8 years ago from Kalamazoo

A very beautiful story. It was so heartfelt, I cried as I read it.


KT pdx profile image

KT pdx 8 years ago from Vancouver, WA, USA

Oh, spryte! *hugs, hugs, hugs* *crying unabashedly* No words can express what I want to say!


ajcor profile image

ajcor 8 years ago from NSW. Australia

Spryte - so beautifully written, heart wrenching, emotionally gutting and way too close - I am so sorry Michael did not make it and that Christmas is such a huge time for you. The dream - the familiar eyes - your son. I did cry with you and for you. cheers


Jerilee Wei profile image

Jerilee Wei 8 years ago from United States

Many hugs sent your way. In Spanish, two words "comprendo" and "entiendo" -- both meaning to understand -- come to mind. One however, actually means to "understand with sympathy" having not actually experienced the same thing -- the other means to "understand with experience." I thought of that only because I'm sure that many who read this will feel with heart-felt understanding because they too lost a baby, including me. You were very brave and special for sharing your Christmas story.


spryte profile image

spryte 8 years ago from Arizona, USA Author

Rowan: :) you are 100% right about that

Shade: I have to thank you for that too...LOL! I don't mind occasionally baring my soul, pushing all the right buttons and wringing as much heart-wrenching sobs as I can from my readers...but you have to balance it out somewhere and your hub did just that :) But it's rather ironic...and this weekend you'll find out what that statement means...


Shadesbreath profile image

Shadesbreath 8 years ago from California

LOL Spryte, I did blow my nose, and then I went and bashed out the most a-holish Christmas hub I could just to cleanse myself of the genuine emotions you coaxed out.  That stuff is dangerous.


rowanelayna profile image

rowanelayna 8 years ago from York, PA

Uhm...I never knew? : ) In the year and 8 months I was trying to get pregnant I had several friends become pregnant. I didn't want to feel angry about it, but sometimes you can't help your emotions when it's something that touches you so deeply. No worries though...I know ya still love me. : )


spryte profile image

spryte 8 years ago from Arizona, USA Author

*gently pats Christoph's heart and returns it* No fava beans though. I'm trying to cut back.

I didn't realize that about your older brother...is he still a shit? :)

And I'm sorry about ruining your make-up...and of course I'll hug you. It'll make us both feel better. Love you too.


Christoph Reilly profile image

Christoph Reilly 8 years ago from St. Louis

I was just going to write, "Well now you've ruined my mascara," and leave it at that. It's hard for me to think when tears are streaming down my face. I had to take a break, blow my nose, smoke a cigarette (I don't really smoke) and still, I don't know what to say.

You have consistently guided me into feeling whatever it is you want your reader to feel, so skillful is your writing. But you really did it this time. I wanted to hug you too (which would probably send you running for protection), just as others have already said, and I wonder if that isn't only so we may comfort you, but for you to comfort us as well. Like - hell, I don't know - to let us know you are OK. Of course you are, but still. God knows, after that, I need a hug.

My mother lost her first, and it always remained in her mind, I'm sure. I guess I was told about it when I was around 10, and even I, so far removed, felt something like a pervasive and unalterable sadness, probably because on some level that I was too young to understand, I felt it coming from my mom. For me, after that, I thought about it a lot, always regretting that I didn't have that older sister (my older brother was such a shit, you know).

You have secretly put your hand into my chest and gently removed my heart. May i have it back, please? Fava beans on the side. Love.


spryte profile image

spryte 8 years ago from Arizona, USA Author

Thank you for all of your responses...I know it wasn't easy to leave a comment and it's just as difficult to leave a comment on all of your comments. :) But I do want to comment on a few...

Sixty - your Christmas hub gave me the courage I neeeded to write this, even when I didn't want to. Thank you.

Rowan - I remember. :) I wish I could say that I only felt happiness and joy whenever a friend told me that they were having a baby...but I would have been lying. I'm not THAT unselfish. There was always a part of me that was incredibly jealous...but I beat it back with a heavy stick so that hopefully nobody ever knew. You never knew...right? Lie to me! :) Once I managed to do that though...I never regretted it because I so enjoyed all of your baby pics and stories. I happen to think you are pretty damn fantastic too...and Cecilia has a wonderful mommy.

Shade - You aren't that much of an asshole. :) But you do a pretty good job of pretending to be one...I'm just not easily fooled.

Anyway...I'm not sorry that I made you all cry. Crying is good for you. Now blow your nose, hug somebody you love and be all happy for the rest of the day. That's an order.


Rochelle Frank profile image

Rochelle Frank 8 years ago from California Gold Country

This was beautifully told with a strength that comes from love. None of us really know how to respond, but we thank you for sharing these thoughts which are both distressing and comforting to something deep within every human.


Mighty Mom profile image

Mighty Mom 8 years ago from Where Left is Right, CA

The perfect Christmas story. I hope it was as cathartic to write as is for those of us who care about your to read. You are a supermom in my book, Spryte. Hugs. MM


Shadesbreath profile image

Shadesbreath 8 years ago from California

Jesus, Spryte. I'm too much of an asshole to have to cry like this dammit. All I can say is "Wow" and I'm so, so sorry. (That dream was amazing, btw. Just goes to show you... you know?)


wannabwestern profile image

wannabwestern 8 years ago from The Land of Tractors

Wow, what a powerful story! Thank you for sharing something so personal and so tender. I will certainly cherish my own children more for it.


gwendymom profile image

gwendymom 8 years ago from Oklahoma

Spryte, my dear friend, I don't know what to say. You have made me cry. You are such an amazing and wonderful person, Michael knew your heart would be broken, he loved you as you loved him and he knew he had to talk to you and help ease your pain just a little bit. I am glad you got to spend that time with him. I don't believe it was a dream, maybe I'm crazy. The bond between a mother and her unborn child is amazing, the love you feel for a child that you have never met is incredible, and I do not think words can describe it. (HUGS) I have to go before I start crying again.


rowanelayna profile image

rowanelayna 8 years ago from York, PA

Damn it, you know how I feel about crying at work!

I can’t tell you how many times I thought about you while I was pregnant. First it was because I was afraid to tell you… the last thing I wanted to do was to hurt someone so dear to me. Then, as my due date approached I couldn’t help but think about having this amazing connection with a person that I didn’t even know yet but loved so much and wondering how in the world I would ever get the strength to get through if I lost her. I never fully understood your loss until Cecilia was born.

I’m not sure if you’ll ever know how much you’ve inspired me over the last year but I hope you know what an amazing person you are. ***HUGZ***


dineane profile image

dineane 8 years ago from North Carolina

Oh, Spryte, like Lazur, I feel my comment is inadequate, but not to comment would be wrong. Thank you for sharing your story.


CJStone profile image

CJStone 8 years ago from Whitstable, UK

Yes Spryte, and you made me cry too. A story of heartbreak and loss, beautifully told, and with such powerful message of love in the end. Thanks Spryte. I'll treasure this story.


KCC Big Country profile image

KCC Big Country 8 years ago from Central Texas

As I sit here with tears streaming down my face, my heart goes out to you Spryte. Although our losses were different, I understand some of your pain. You've shared your experience very beautifully. *hug*


sixtyorso profile image

sixtyorso 8 years ago from South Africa

Spryte oh Spryte, what can I say, your words have touched a chord in my soul. I feel for you with all of my heart. I can feel the joy and pain that christmas 2002 brought you and will continue to bring to you.


agvulpes profile image

agvulpes 8 years ago from Australia

"HUG"


Lazur profile image

Lazur 8 years ago from Netherlands

Sometimes, just sometimes, I feel tears burning in my eyes when I read a story. And this time I felt them.I want to say a lot, but at the same time I'm short on words on this. Maybe the words will come later:) Beautiful written Spryte.


Patty Inglish, MS profile image

Patty Inglish, MS 8 years ago from North America

This is devasting in two ways, bad and good - the loss and the sheer power of a love that still exists. I will always remember Michael yawning into the camera and rolling over to moon you and his dad.

Be blessed always,

Patty

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