I've been pretty lucky so far---most of my casual acquaintances found out what had happened. I was dreading going back to work--I'd played so many gigs with so many different people when I was pregnant and I just knew that I would be inundated with How's-the-Baby questions. Fortunately, the music community here is pretty tight, so it seemed like everyone already knew. This was such a relief to me. I don't care who told who, I don't care if it was fodder for gossip as long as I didn't have to tell people that my baby was dead. Better luck next time. Thanks for playing.
Well, there have been a few people who didn't know. Yesterday, a very nice viola player asked me, "How's the new baby?" She had such a great smile on her face. I just said, "Well..." and shook my head. The smile stayed there, but she started to look confused. "We lost him," I said. Still smiling...more confused. "He died. He passed. We lost him." It finally soaked in for her. No one expects that kind of answer when they ask that question. They were just making an attempt at small talk, and this is what they get. I feel like I just ruined their day and I wonder if they will ever again ask how someone's baby is.
I've been learning a lot already on this journey, and I've learned that when you tell someone that your baby died, they want so badly to say just the perfect thing to make you feel better. I heard this yesterday, and I've heard it before, "Sometimes nature knows best." Hmmm, okay, right. Nate was a sturdy little big-footed, barrel-chested beauty with a head full of auburn hair. He was absolutely perfect--well, he would have been. In mine and so many of our situations, nature didn't know best, nature fucked up. Royally.
I want so much to set these people straight, to get angry at them, but I can't. Partially because I'm too emotionally exhausted, but also because I realize now that they just don't get it. What happened was just so horrible, so unimaginable to the average shlub on the street, they can't get their brain around it. For some reason, I was entered into this sorority of wise women, so all I can do is nod sagely when someone attempts to comfort me with this kind of thing. They don't understand, and I'm glad that they don't--no one should have this kind of understanding. I know that it is helping their heart to tell me these things, and I'll just let them do it. The place that I have been is dark and black and scary, but I'm crawling my way out of that place, baby. I'm doing it--it's a two steps forward, one step back type of thing--but I'm doing it. I have to, for my husband, my family, and my (please God) future children.