Saturday, March 24, 2012


Last December, I had a toothache from hell. At one point, it got so bad that I stayed up all night crying and praying for some relief. With most illnesses you can run to the pharmacy or in worst cases the ER to get some sort of answers along with some meds, but with toothaches the options are limited, especially when you're pregnant. I remember thinking there couldn't possibly be any pain worse than a toothache.

I take it back.

I went to the dentist and had the tooth extracted. My mouth is no longer in pain. But my heart, well, it hurts badly. And I can't have it extracted. No amount of Ibuprofen or Acetaminophen could ease the deep pain I feel inside. At times, the pain is sharp and relentless. Other times, it's dull and achey, but it's always there. ALWAYS.

I'm supposed to be on maternity leave. Please, tell my why I just left a funeral home...I don't understand. It seems like a nightmare. The funeral director keeps talking about prices and "packages" like were here to buy a time-share. It seems cruel to  subject anyone to this after they've suffered the loss of a loved one. I'm lucky that Joe's sisters have handled most of these arrangements for me. I only had to show up to sign some papers, but I can imagine what it's like to have your heart shattered and throbbing with pain, and to want to lay your loved one to rest for eternity only to have a sales person approach you with their robotic, well-rehearsed "I'm so sorry for your loss" script and then attempt to make a sale while you're vulnerable and foggy.

I signed and left. I know I cried because there are black mascara tear trails on my cheeks, but my mind and my heart have blocked out most of the cold details. I don't care for small talk during moments of awkward silence ,while I sign a paper saying it's ok to have my baby buried here. I'm here because I don't have a choice. I doubt anyone has ever seeked their services out of pleasure.

This has truly been my first real encounter with death. There's really no way to describe the physical and emotional toll it has taken on me. There are moments when I feel paralyzed by pain. I have to force myself to function. I suppose that's what brings us all together as humans. No matter what age, race, gender, social status, the end of the day, we all feel pain. At one point or another, we all experience loss and heartbreak.  Pain of any sort is a humbling experience. You suddenly realize you don't care all that much about the petty things.

Excuse my francais, but all the shit that I once swore was my worst nightmare, is the same shit I would trade in this experience for right now. I'd take that toothache from hell back if I could go back and feel my baby moving inside me just one more time. I'd take on everyone else's trouble too, in exchange for a few more magical minutes cuddling with his tiny body.

And excuse my francais some more, but if I ever hear another woman moping and whining about the late night feedings and the loneliness and the fatigue and the lack of support, blah blah blah, I'm gonna have to tell her to shut the fuck up, because I'd give almost anything to have that right now. That's what babies do. Big deal. Get over it. If it bothers you so much then stop having babies.

The only thing that comforts me right now, is knowing that others have suffered or are suffering far more than I ever have, and they are okay.

And in time, I will be okay too.

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