Posts Tagged ‘Hurt’

What not to say.

November 2, 2012

So I’m lying on the couch, totally immobile. I’m waiting for you to come help, like you said, at 7:30. At 9:30 my wife calls you, her mother, to find out where you are. When you finally arrive to find me lying on the couch, trying to play with my kids without actually moving, you say,

See, this is why I was worried about you having a third child. You gesture at me, broken. This is why I worried. Because if you were like this and needed me to help, how would I take care of three? I’m getting old. It would be too much work for me. This is why I’m glad you aren’t having another one.

I lay there, holding steady, while another part of me is wounded and raw and curling up to protect myself against your totally selfish and unthinking words. Because who cares if your daughter and her wife are heartbroken, if it saves you a little bit of work?

I don’t say anything like, I know you don’t mean to be hurtful, but I’m still very upset about TMD not being pregnant. Devastated, actually. So your words do hurt me.

Instead I say,’I wouldn’t leave a baby with you anyway. Little babies need their mums. And babies are the easy part. It’s older kids that need you to move around.’

You raise your eyebrows when I say babies are easy. And I remember how hard you found mine, even when multiple adults were around. But I didn’t find them hard. Or a chore.

I laid on the couch, immobile, with two little lovely people cuddled into me. It was a perfect time, a time I cherish, a time I won’t be able to have again….not with my ever growing kids, not with the other child. I feel our family isn’t complete, I feel hurt, I feel like I want to say words to you that you will find so hurtful. But I keep my mouth shut and think about writing it here, writing it for my friends, writing it to capture this raw pain.

And I won’t say this to my children in the future. If their dreams are punctured, their souls tired, I will say, ‘I’m sorry. I love you and I’m sorry this has not worked. Can I do anything to help?’ I may think about me, about the impact their dreams have on my life, but the only words I will ever give to a grieving child will not be about me.

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