It ain't that easy

October 28, 2009

He brought it up, which was unusual. I honestly couldn't remember a time that he had brought up the topic. I'm always the one who tentatively broaches the subject, all the while thinking to myself, Is talking about this going to stress him out? Will he get protective and scared? Or will he be able to join in the excitement? But Saturday night, it was Jeremy who started the conversation about us adopting.

"I'm excited about it," he said looking at me with a smile on his face. (Granted, his emotions were a bit lubricated with IPA and barley wine (was it?) as well as an emotional bon voyage dinner with a dear friend who is more like a brother to us . . . but I digress.)

"Really? You're excited? You've never really said that to me before."

"Yeah. I'm excited. I like seeing you excited too. I'm not scared Abby." Yes. This is what the conversation was really about: fear. And all of a sudden the flood gates opened and he was weeping, his face contorted from the emotion. "I think about how I looked at you through the camera week after week all beaming and happy and all I could see was my own fear. I feel so much guilt that I didn't get excited with you. I wish I could dump these feelings." More sobs.

After I reached week 12 of my pregnancy with Harper and began to show, we took weekly photos of me in the same position to document the growth of my belly. They are hard photos to look at now. They were on the same "roll" of film as the photo of my positive pregnancy test, and then also the photos of Harper when she was born.

"Jeremy, you were scared. That's okay. You were allowed to be scared. Do you think for a moment that I would have chosen to have a baby with you if I wasn't certain that once she was born you were going to let go of your fears and embrace her with everything you had? Is there something you need to hear from me to allow you to let go of the guilt?" I wanted to fix this for him. It broke my heart to see him in such pain, carrying that heavy burden with him. Couldn't I do something to release it for him? Sometimes in the twisted corners of my mind, I get lost and confused and feel like this was all my fault. After all, I was the one who got pregnant. I was the one who got sick. I was the one who lost the baby. Couldn't I also be the one to make this all better for him?

"No. I want to hold on to it because I never want to do that again. I want things to be different this time."

"But don't you think that if you're parenting from a place of guilt, you won't feel free?" But I understood what he was saying. He's learned something from the guilt, and he wants to keep that lesson close to him. It's a fine line to walk though. It's a fuzzy line too.

I told him I loved him, my sweet lover, partner, friend. That was all I could do. And I realized that though we are bonded as one in our commitment to each other, we are still two very separate people, processing grief in our very different ways. It's not always about you Abby. Just because you've let go of the guilt (for the most part) doesn't mean that's where he's at too.

I hesitated to share this conversation because it is one of those intimate moments that I hold dear to me. One of those moments where we were raw with each other, raw and exposed. But this conversation typifies the confusing, complexities of grieving together. You don't just go through a period of sadness and then come to a place where you're happy again. It ain't that easy.