An Island

Sometimes, all I wish for is an island.  No, I don't even care if it's, like, a subdivision or something.  Someplace where you have to be screened by me to "get in, " to live there.  And your way in is to be someone who has suffered a loss such as ours, and have compassion, and empathy.
And you understand me.
The funny thing is, I'm so serious.  I joke with my bff Bree, who lives across the country from me, "Come have lunch with me!".  But...I'm not joking.  I would give ANYTHING to have her come have lunch with me.
As the Christmas cards arrive at my house, my husband will ask, "Who is that, again?" and more often than not, it seems, I say, "One of my online friends."  And he'll be in awe...she lives in California? And she sent you a Christmas card?  It's adorable.  He's always been supportive and I love him for that.
I love how I can see on each card, whether explicit or not, a little shout-out to everyone's babies that are no longer with us.  I love how I KNOW I could send them a card mentioning Sophie and Aiden and they would not blink an eye.

As I navigate this pregnancy after loss, the second one, I wish for that unconditional understanding.  I wish to be around people that know what to say, to ask, and what to leave out.  The barrage of questioning...the looks of confusion when I say that I've had both a c-section and a vaginal birth, actually (what is she talking about? their looks says).  The way people just shut down if I dare mention this is my THIRD pregnancy, not my second.  Even the freaking medical professionals. 

Oh, and in our island, our compound, I know there are enough of us in each profession.  So our nurses would be a loss survivor, too.  Our teachers.  Our insurance salesmen.  So you NEVER have to explain, to stutter, to elaborate.

Sometimes, pretending to be "normal" is just so tiring.  Pretending that what the person just said to you doesn't sting gets old. 

Having to constantly say things like, "I know how blessed I am.  I am so grateful.  I'm so lucky to be a mom" when some days you feel SO beat down, just by normal life and no matter if these things are true (which they so are) sometimes you don't even feel like you have the right to complain or vent (which is, really because you DO know how blessed you are no matter what).

I dream of living in a little subdivision where everywhere I went I would see reminders of our beautiful babies, the ones we lost, and have my babies play with the ones that got to stay.