a horrible first; also, i am human correctol
today i told someone other than a faceless insurance adjustor that my son died.
when we first found out, justin bravely called his mom and our friends, and his mom called my mom and his dad and my boss, and they took care of all the rest. i have not broken the news to anyone.
today i ran into a woman who works in my building who gave birth the week before me. the last few weeks of pregnancy, we commiserated daily about our disbelief that our babies would ever come. she was not here when my son died so she never got the news, and by the time she came back to work, no one thought to tell her.
so when she saw me, she smiled brightly and said, "hey!!!! how's your boy???"
i half-way smiled and said, "well, he died."
the face she made is beyond my descriptive capabilities.
i asked her about her new daughter, and she mumbled something about her having a lot of gas. i'm sure she was kicking herself for a while afterward.
i do not want to break the news to anyone else i know. maybe next time i will smile politely and say that he is quiet and low-maintenance.
*****
yesterday, another woman in my building, who has a one year old son, came by to tell me how terrible it was to hear about what happened after all of the talks we had about having boys. she said something similar had happened to her aunt, and two years later she had a daughter, and because she is an only child she is terribly spoiled.
of course, she is not an only child.
i seem to have found a mission: to correct the well-meaning but ignorant misperceptions of people about the loss of a child. it seems to be a role i was made for: to gently help them expel their ignorance and understand the truth. i cannot have one-on-ones with every person on the planet, but i can reshape people's understandings if they're open to it when i see an opportunity.
maybe i should develop a theme song and design a super-hero costume. i should probably look into getting an agent, too. and a good lawyer to keep from getting sued for using the "correctol" brand name.
when we first found out, justin bravely called his mom and our friends, and his mom called my mom and his dad and my boss, and they took care of all the rest. i have not broken the news to anyone.
today i ran into a woman who works in my building who gave birth the week before me. the last few weeks of pregnancy, we commiserated daily about our disbelief that our babies would ever come. she was not here when my son died so she never got the news, and by the time she came back to work, no one thought to tell her.
so when she saw me, she smiled brightly and said, "hey!!!! how's your boy???"
i half-way smiled and said, "well, he died."
the face she made is beyond my descriptive capabilities.
i asked her about her new daughter, and she mumbled something about her having a lot of gas. i'm sure she was kicking herself for a while afterward.
i do not want to break the news to anyone else i know. maybe next time i will smile politely and say that he is quiet and low-maintenance.
*****
yesterday, another woman in my building, who has a one year old son, came by to tell me how terrible it was to hear about what happened after all of the talks we had about having boys. she said something similar had happened to her aunt, and two years later she had a daughter, and because she is an only child she is terribly spoiled.
of course, she is not an only child.
i seem to have found a mission: to correct the well-meaning but ignorant misperceptions of people about the loss of a child. it seems to be a role i was made for: to gently help them expel their ignorance and understand the truth. i cannot have one-on-ones with every person on the planet, but i can reshape people's understandings if they're open to it when i see an opportunity.
maybe i should develop a theme song and design a super-hero costume. i should probably look into getting an agent, too. and a good lawyer to keep from getting sued for using the "correctol" brand name.
posted by laura at 8:37 PM
3 Comments:
double post?
anyhow, I'm still working on Johannes' theme song. after that, all my musical energy is yours.
What are you feeling: da da dana na dan - da da dana na dan - dan or do do dooo dooot dooot dooot dooot dooo dooot?
I think the song needs a few whoot! whoot!s.
I remember the first time I had to tell someone myself, someone I knew. It was pretty awful, I was out running errands and ran into a woman from my ballet class and she asked me and I told her and started to cry, right there in the street, so did she. I felt horrible because I made her feel horrible and telling people made it all real for me. It is easier for me now and I think it helped me accept that Strummer was dead. I used to rehearse telling people in my head and that made it easier too, although some of the responses I've gotten have caught me off guard.
The human correctol thing is annoying and I have only one thing to say about it: pick your battles. This applies to you, whether you are up to it at that particular moment, and the recipient of your knowledge, whether they will hear you and follow through. If you aren't up to it or they won't hear you then think carefully about whether or not you want to expend energy you could be using on yourself on squeezing into your costume and winding up the record player to give them the correctol treatment right then and there. You can always think about it and tell them later if you still think it's important.
With awful wisdom comes awesome responsibility. Use your powers for good, and not for evil.
Unless dealing with telemarketers who are trying to sell you baby things. Smite them with impunity.
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