Okay

So, it's been quiet here because my life just seems like such a train wreck. We busy ourselves everyday, but very little is joy-filled and 'fun' for me. I've started a post on my story (part six) and need to interject this open letter to the other mommies in my son's playgroup. Because I just can't seem to fall asleep until I let out how I'm feeling.

I admit, I am a basket case. The trivial superficial talk one needs to undertake in order to find things in common to, thus build a friendship upon are really really hard for me. This coupled with the fact that even the people that I thought were my friends don't call or email anymore (hardly, if ever). No one knows what to say. They don't dare mention my dead child and gee that might come up, so better not to call or write at all. I discovered that I only have one really good friend (and a really wonderful husband). It's only been almost six months since my son died. So, yes, I am lonely and sad. Then, there are things (trust me, you can't even imagine what or how many things) that I hear, see or otherwise encounter that remind me. They are sudden things that you just can't plan for (emotionally). Like I can avert my eyes from the baby section when I'm at Target -- I can even plan a whole route through a store to completely avoid such sections. But, I didn't plan to be reminded and feel sad when I saw a baby wearing the exact same outfit that Owen would have worn (if he were still alive). And I didn't plan for a handicapped child to come in to the play area at the mall. Seeing him reminded me of where I wished I would have been in five years. While I'm sure there are days that are hard raising such a child, I still wish (with all of my heart) that were me. I'm not sure you understand the gravity of losing a child. The months of anxiety and the emotional rollercoaster until finally the day you give birth. I didn't just pack my suitcase (to go to the hospital) full of clothes, there were many hopes and dreams packed in there too. They were different hopes and dreams than what one would normally "pack" when going in to the hospital to deliver a baby. And, yes, I realize that whether he had lived two hours or six months it never would have been enough. And, honestly, being prepared doesn't really prepare you.

I am in the playgroup because my happy, go-lucky and respectful living child needs to get out of the house and play. You don't have to like me, in fact I'm not asking you to like me. Heck, I don't even like me right now. I am no stepford wife, but I don't swear, yell at or hit any children. My house is safe, clean and has lots of room to play. So, I don't really understand why you won't come for playgroup at my house.