I cried yesterday.  It’s been a while since I did that.  But, it was a full-on bawl fest complete with heaving and gulping, but no fist pounding.  It had been a stressful week, what with the dog-eating-poo incident, work, not being to sit comfortably on my toosh due to the butt shots each night, and an unusual number of reminders recently of how hopeful we had been when we got pregnant the first time. 

All of a sudden, it hit me that I missed my babies.  And I cried for them, again.  I cried for me, for Mr. X, for our parents, but mostly for those babies who we will never meet.  I cried because we had so much hope, we thought we had finally escaped the bonds of infertility and rejoined the normal world, and we were so wrong. I cried because so many babies do survive, where ours did not.  I still hurt.

I think I needed the catharsis, but it came on very suddenly.  One minute I was petting the dog and the next I was bawling.  But, better out than in and luckily I had forgotten to put on mascara that morning, so I had no tell-tale raccoon eyes when Mr. X came home about 30 minutes later.


I was driving today behind a Nissan Pathfinder with a Baby on Board sign thingy hanging in the back window.  I remember when these first became popular when I was still a kid and even then I thought they were rather ridiculous.  My opinion hasn’t changed, although now I amuse myself by trying to figure out what the practical purpose is to having one of those on there.  Is it like the handicap placard that you pull out when you want to use the handicap space (which I saw yesterday)? Is it to tell people to be extra careful not to rear-end you? Is it to brag about your fertility? I purposely chose not to give much stock to that last one because it would just make my blood boil if it was true. 

I just read the Wikipedia entry and it turns out my second guess was correct.  It also quotes George Carlin, who departed this world way too soon, as opining that the phrase was made up of “the three most puke-inducing words that man has yet come up with”.  Jumbo shrimp, George!


My maternal grandmother was one of four sisters.  Three of the sisters married (including my grandmother), one did not.  The one who did not lead a very interesting life before she died in the 1990s.  Of all of her nieces and nephews, the spawn of her sisters, I’m pretty certain that she liked my mother and my uncle the best.  Many of her amazing possessions that she amassed from her travels and living abroad made into our family after her death.  I never saw the full inventory as I was in high school and So Important that I could not bother to look at everything.  But, every now and then my mother shows me something, usually jewelry, with the statement, “Oh, that belonged to Aunt D”. 

One item that I don’t think I had seen before was a lovely gold pendant in the Chinese symbol “Double Happiness” – my mother was about to auction it off to the highest bidder on eBay, but asked if I was interested.  This was pretty soon after my second miscarriage and I knew immediately, that it was the perfect reminder of the now two babies we have lost – double happiness.  It was double happiness to hear their little hearts beating away and to think that maybe they would join our world.  

I haven’t worn it yet, though, because I don’t have a chain for it and I keep forgetting to measure what length I want.  The sooner I do, though, the sooner I can have them close to my heart.

9 thoughts on “Vignettes

  1. I had those random break downs for months and months following my 2 losses. I am still convinced that we never really get over the loss of a baby/pregnancy. And perhaps that is the way it should be – so we can always remember that part of us that never made it into this world.

    I thought for months about figuring out a way to memorialize our losses. I think your Aunt’s necklace is perfect, and so lovely that it just came to you in such an organic way.

  2. GoogleBlogger sometimes seems like McBlogging to me, and I do love your Word Press style. But I think I’m too lazy to ever switch.

    Isn’t it odd how the grieving comes in bursts? Sometimes I’m shocked at how normal I can seem. The next I’m sitting in my house (or my office, if I’m unlucky) crying my eyes out.

    I think it does get better over time. In some ways, I think we eventually become resigned. I still find that amazing.

    Hang in there, sweetie. Life’s just going to keep on rolling.

  3. The necklace sounds like a perfect way to keep your babies close to you, especially because of how you came to receive it. I’m thinking of you.

    It’s so odd that you were considering the use of those ridiculous signs, because just a few days ago I spent some time wondering the same thing. I’d considered a blog post about it, too.

    It seems like I remember you being given a Pink Rose Award fairly early; I’ll see if I can backtrack and figure out who gave it to you. Congratulations!

  4. Those ‘Baby on Board’ signs are one of my great bugbears. Here in the UK, there’s a number of increasingly nauseating variations on the theme, including ‘grandkids on board’, ‘little princess on board’ and (aimed at young women) ‘babe on board’. Like you, I’ve never been able to work out what they’re actually for – since I’m not going to deliberately run into the back of anyone, regardless of whether or not they have a child in the back of the car, I can only assume they are for people who feel the need to publicly advertise their fecundity. There are moments when I’ve been sorely tempted to get a sign saying ‘barren bitch on board’ for the rear window of my car!

    I’m always struck by how grief can hit us with renewed force when we least expected it. Once again, I’m so sorry for your losses. The necklace sounds like a beautiful way of keeping your babies close to your heart.

  5. I always thought the signs were in case of an accident…so the paramedics would know to look for a baby…but then I guess the giagantic car seat strapped in the back would serve that purpose pretty well, wouldn’t it. Just so you know, I do not own one of those signs. I did like the one that said, “Mother-in-law in trunk.”

    I love the idea of your aunt’s necklace to memorialize your babies. I hate it when people say trite, cliche things about miscarriages or expect a woman to “just get over it.” My mom lost a baby when I was three & I know she still mourns him.

  6. Much to my chagrin, the sunshades on the back windows of my car both have “baby on board” printed on them. Trust me, I know how repulsive they are, but we’ve never gotten around to replacing them. Does it help or hurt my cause that I installed them upside down?

  7. I’m with Mr. Carlin. As if all other vehicles were fair game for ramming.

    I am so sorry you’ve been sad and suffering, Mrs. X, though I love the necklace as a way to honor your babies.

  8. Oh man, I totally hear you on the bawling breakdowns. Been having some pretty random ones lately. It seems like the only time I ever “let” myself feel the losses. Something about how you just have to tidy up after and not really acknowledge that little flicker of life — pretend it didn’t happen, not talk about it in polite company, etc. I think that just makes it a lot worse. You never get to heal properly.

    Heck, I’m even sensitive these days about parents selling girl scout cookies for their kids at work. I’m like “oh yeah? you trying to flaunt your fertility in front of me with those thin mints?!”

    Sigh… here’s hoping for sunshine ahead for us all.

  9. I do a lot of crying in the car during my commute. I’m sure this makes me a high-risk driver, but it seems to be the only time of day when I have a moment to myself …

    And back in the late 80s, I had one of those signs in my rear window, except it said “Ex-Boyfriend in Trunk.”

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