Yesterday

Yesterday afternoon, Guy, Lovely, and I attended a garden party at a friend's home. They have just completed the installation of a beautiful new fountain in front of their home and had a party to celebrate. We are thinking of having a similar party to celebrate our new toilets and flooring but don't want to come across as copycats.

This couple tends to have a party per season, so we have gotten to know enough of the attendees that now there are people for us to talk to and catch up with each time.

The previous party was in December. The previous party I was pregnant. Not as pregnant as the girl who was due in January, but about 9 weeks. As I passed on the wine and brie, Guy took great delight in telling the other pregnant couple that we were expecting too. She and I talked about the first trimester, finding out, telling our parents, and strange food aversions. The men talked about rubbing our feet and fetching snacks late at night. We had a good time.

What is strange to me is that while I finally have a day here and there where I don't think, "If I were still pregnant, I would be . . ." it doesn't take much to bring it all right back to the forefront.

Admittedly, I was already a little squirmy from reading all the Mother's Day ads in the Sunday paper that morning. I remember reading that Mother's Day would be hard and thinking that was silly. I've lived through 34 Mother's Days without a problem. Pah.

When the couple walked in with their baby yesterday, it was - I don't know what it was. I cooed and awed over their son because he was a tasty little cutie. And she stared at me with my non pregnant belly and glass of champagne and said, "I like your skirt."

What else are you going to say after a good long stare at another woman's lower half?

She asked how we were and I just said, "Fine, thanks." I don't know why I didn't just say that we had lost the baby and were trying again. It ran through my head about 2 dozen times, and I know it would have been less awkward for her if I had just said it.

But I couldn't.

I think maybe I still hate hearing those words out loud. It's obviously not a secret. I would be in my third trimester now, so there is no mistaking me for a woman who just isn't showing yet.


Yesterday, before the paper, before the party, before I knew what was going to happen that day, I said to Guy, "I need you to know that I've been sad this week. I don't know what is different, and it's not a stay in the bed kind of sad, but I've been sad." I tell him this because I'm pretty sure it makes me act differently, and I want him to know that it isn't him.


Yesterday, after the paper, after the party, and after I knew I was sad, Lovely says to me, "Maybe Daddy will get you the roses that you like for Mother's Day." I open my mouth to tell her I don't really get to celebrate Mother's Day, and she continues, "Because you're my stepmom and that counts. But don't tell my mom I said that."


Yesterday, in spite of the paper, in spite of the party, and in spite of all of the sad, there was an 11 year old to remind me that I have a wonderful family. She makes it so simple some days.