Throughout my life, I've done this thing where I've felt the need to "get one last one in." So there I was yesterday sitting in my rental car (me and the Mrs.' car is in the shop...again, after two wrecks in two weeks FML) sitting in a McDonald's drive-thru after dropping off my buddy who came over to watch the Superbowl. One of my New Year's resolutions, which I always fail miserably at, this year was to not eat fast food AT ALL the entire year. If it was, like, a Jimmy John's or something that would be acceptable. But definitely no McD's, Burger King, etc. I really tried hard to set goals I thought would be achievable. Seeing as how I'm 32, weight 220 pounds, and have a boring desk job pushing paper, I finally agreed it was time to settle on never becoming the 3rd baseman for the Cincy Reds. My other resolutions were to not eat beef (I've cheated maybe a couple times but have drastically reduced the frequency), and to lose 30 pounds (get under 200 pounds for the first time in years). Over all, I guess I'm doing fairly well. I've lost about 9 pounds and it's only Feb...not bad I suppose. Haven't been to the gym in a week, though.
I have eaten at one fast food place once this year (McD's?) and was sitting there thinking "Okay, I'll go one last time so I can get it out of the way and get my life back on track." Nevermind the fact that I would have been doubling the total number of times I've faulted the entire year, and negating all the times I had the urge to go before but did a good job ignoring it. So luckily, I guess, there was a line of cars waiting to put in their order and I thought "Okay, here's where you drive away." I didn't move. "I need one more time, though, to prove I'm done with it." Then I realized that that thought had to be the most ridiculous, infantile response to any type of situation ever. "Do I even WANT to eat this?" I thought. I imagined the actual items being chewed in my gums and finally thought "Fuck this!" and drove away. A close call that I overcame. Yay me!
Here's the thing. When do I grow the fuck up? When do I stop caring about who gets more out of my relationships with my friends, family, wife, etc.? I had this thought while my friend was sitting in my living room (I had made the offer in an attempt to show off my new 50' plasma that I got as a Christmas gift) that perhaps he was just milking me for the tv, and didn't really care about seeing me... Well, of COURSE he was, that was the whole point, dummy! The thing, too, is that I've lost many friends, I can only gather, due to me having cashed in one too many favors without returning them.
So here's me: an overweight, soon-to-be middle-aged guy who's still blaming others (including God) for my misfortunes, which are really just situations that I did not have the foresight to avoid, or quickly bounce from when I found I was in them. And really, the crux of the problem seems to be that I have no identity. I really feel like I was born in the wrong decade, in the wrong body, in the wrong society, in the wrong class... basically, I at times just want to be somebody different. But that seems fairly normal for people to experience. Well, perhaps people who are either less fortunate or just unable to deal with the real world and the circumstances of the lives that surround them. And so, I'm left with this dilemma, this rite of passage in Buddhist suffering of dealing with, and making the most of, my life as it is RIGHT NOW.
Late last year, my wife and I lost our first baby to miscarriage. It was by far the most devastating and debilitating thing that has ever happened to me in my whole life. What my wife had to endure was thousands of times more difficult than it was for me, so I can't even imagine how she attempts to cope with it. I know she has to relive the m/c every month when she gets her period, is constantly wanting to be pregnant again and to have that time back, and is feeling an overwhelming sense of pressure to not disappoint me and my family and hers. I don't quite understand the latter point, although I know that I'm partially to blame for building up my expectations and desire to have as many children as possible. I definitely was not quiet about dreaming out loud with her about how many kids we were going to have. "Ten!" I'd joke, as she has nine siblings.
It seems so unfair. She feels as though I have already moved on from losing our first child, which couldn't be further from the truth. The problem is that I have no way to show or express that grief. I could talk about the precious memories we shared, but I would be making it more painful for her by doing so, unnecessarily. I could cry and weep constantly to express my despair, but somehow that would be taking her pain away from her and be selfish. I could be hopeful and help her dream about the future with our children and what they would act like, what sports they'd like to play (I do this constantly in my own mind-the girl is going to be super-brainy and get a full scholarship to attend the Sigurd Olson Environmental Institute at Northland College in Ashland, WI, while the boy makes the 53-man roster for the Bears as a 2rd string, so he doesn't get hurt, lineman for the Bears), and whose facial features they have, but that added pressure and potentially false sense of hope could do more damage than good. So I'm left with....nothing. If I don't talk about it, I'm an asshole for moving on too quickly and not caring. If I do talk about it, I risk delaying her progression and not being sensitive to her needs, which out of necessity are constantly changing and vary moment to moment.
Grace, my wife, recently said that she thought it might be helpful if I kept a blog from a man's point of view about the loss of a child and dealing with the aftermath. I figure since I can't do anything else (/right?), I might as well. Maybe it will help me get my thoughts in order. I feel so disjointed and distant from things sometimes. Maybe I'll learn something in the process. Or maybe it will be a place where I can just bitch about my life and continue to blame others for my self-inflicted misfortunes. Regardless, I gotta do something. I want to tell her I am most certainly NOT over this. As a man, I have different coping skills, namely that horrible one my father instilled in me that I disdained as a child "out of sight, out of mind." Forgive me, baby (my affectionate name for my wife)... little buddy (our name we had given our child in utero as the Mrs. and I call each other "buddy") but sometimes I just can't think about this anymore. I do more than you think, more than I should, but I just don't have the emotional capacity to do it anymore. I'm not moving beyond it, or past it, I just can't do it sometimes. So if I'm seeming emotionally distant or uncaring about your needs, it's not purposeful or due to a lack of sensitivity... I just can't. Not at that moment. I can right now, but I may not be able to in the hallway of a movie theater when I don't want to be crying, hurting, or within 1000 feet of any living organism, human or otherwise. I'm sorry.
I'm sorry I haven't grown up like I thought I would by now. I'm trying. I know you hate it when I say I'm trying and try to convince you that it's the thought that counts. I know there is a disconnect between my intentions and my actions. I'm still trying to figure that one out. Maybe it's ADD, maybe it's a learned habit from my childhood where I was not properly instilled with the motivation and desire to achieve my full inner potential that I know I'm capable of. Or maybe I just need to grow up. I know you think that, and it's true. But you have to let me do it on my own. I'm getting there. Slowly. But, you know, it's something positive when I drive out of the McDonald's drive thru lane. Yeah, I did go into the parking lot, and sit there with the car idling for a few minutes... but I left. Just....stay with me. Hold on for just a little while longer. I can do this. "I can fix this" as in the words of Will Smith in "I Am Legend." I just... need to be able to see the butterfly. I need to figure out my purpose... find the potential in me. I need to open my heart and listen. I still have to learn how to listen.
Just... let me breath and give me a few more minutes. Let me collect my thoughts and get my bearings. These last few months have flown by and been so painful, so beautiful, so frustrating... I like going to the meetings with you to mourn the loss. Somehow it helps, I don't know how. Even if I don't talk during the meetings, or at other times... let it be okay. I'm not being distant from you. I don't want to leave you. I don't hate you for being emotional. I just... don't have anything to say at that moment. I'm never going to leave you for somebody at a bar who likes to party. I don't want to party any more. I want a child... two kids... with YOU. That's all I want. I know my actions don't suggest that sometimes. I know I don't say it the right way sometimes. Damn it for being easier for me to write this down than say it directly to you. I'm sorry. This is me. Right now, I'm a fat paper-pusher struggling with not eating fast food and wearing a wrinkled shirt at work. That's not who I am going to be. That's not who I am, although my actions led me to this spot. But... I don't know, I'm... a good father. A caring husband who frequently makes mistakes. I cry in the bathroom at work when I watch your post about the movie "Up" because I don't have internet access at home. Well, I do on my phone but.... then I'm not crying in front of you. I have to be strong for you because.... I'm not. I'm weak. I rarely follow through on my projects or intentions. I'm sorry. I want to change that, but wanting is nothing unless it's followed by action. I know these are just words that won't ultimately comfort you. I don't know who I'm trying to comfort, me or you. I don't know.... anything. Except that I love you. And that deepest in my soul of souls, I know that this too shall pass and that it will be okay. I promise you. Us, together, we'll be okay. I know that.
And you're right. One way or another, we'll get our baby. It's gonna happen. I know it. And know that when I think of you, saying thanks to the Earth Goddess, finding appreciation in people's stupid attempts to provide support for us... you've become the most perfect person I could ever dream of or hope for. You AREN'T failing me. Or my family. My family wants me to be happy, that's all. I am happiest when I'm with you. Stay with me and everybody is happy. Baby or no baby, I will love my life, because it's with you. I'll hate it when I find myself not losing the weight I promised myself I would, or cheating by eating an unhappy meal... but, just let me struggle to find myself a little bit longer. I know I should already know who I am. I know I should be acting more like an adult. Just be patient. Let's put our hope for a baby, for a happy future towards each other and never forget what the other person really looks like. I love you. Be patient. I'm sorry, but I feel hopeful.
