I was reading another bereaved mother's blog yesterday.  She was talking about her current pregnancy, with twins.  She was saying that she was glad she had been taken off bed rest, which she had been put on temporarily.  She was happy to have made it to 30 weeks and was relieved that the babies look very healthy.  She also talked about how hard this pregnancy has been, how sad she is to have to face another holiday without her beautiful daughter, how much she worries about her unborn babies.  There were only a couple of comments.  They said things like, "So glad that things are going well for you....".  All I could think was, did this commenter and I just read the same post?  Another blogger, who just commemorated what would have been his son's fourth birthday wrote a beautiful post about how much his son loved birthdays.  He included videos of his son singing happy birthday and helping to blow out birthday candles.  Tears were streaming down my face as I watched this wonderful boy relish the excitement of his second birthday party.  The first comment on that blog wished the blogger moments of joy on the occasion of his dead son's birthday.  Do you need to be a bereaved parent to know how impossible joy would be on such an occasion?  I get emails and comments like that all of the time and I wonder if somehow the point of my post was missed.  Likely in many cases, it is.  Yes, again, I DO know that most people are only trying to offer what comfort they can.  Much of the time, they really aren't up to the task of saying "I'm so sorry that your son died so young.  It is so unfair and my heart breaks for you, your son and your family".  I am lucky that I have so many friends and readers who do say those things.

Still, I feel that I often don't do a very good job explaining my feelings or what is happening in our lives.  A friend of mine who reads my blog every day and with whom I email quite a bit as well, wrote last Friday to ask if we thought there was some genetic reason for Maxie's death and wondered if that's why we are doing genetic testing.  I have been writing about it for weeks.  Since even before announcing Baby M on my blog.  How did I manage to not explain that, indeed, that is the reason why we are doing genetic testing?  I feel so silly.  I wonder how many other people didn't get that.  The posts about my fears and the trauma of every email and phone call I get from the coroner and the geneticist probably don't make that much sense to those of you who don't get it.  Sadly, I don't really feel like explaining the whole thing again so, it just is what it is.  Either you get it or you don't.  I thank you for even trying.

Sometimes I am cryptic, for sure.  Someone has said something hurtful (or acted inappropriately since the start of this horror) and I don't want to sell them out, but I want to express my feelings about the incident.  It comes as no surprise on those days when I get lots of confused emails.  Often I get emails from people who think I am talking about them.  Very rarely does the actual culprit actually acknowledge that it was their blunder (though, to be fair, very few of the culprits read my blog).  But, when a mother writes about her fears and the horrors of living without her child, even when she mentions a couple of positive things (that most of the population takes for granted) - like that both of her unborn babies look healthy at 30 weeks, she isn't really "doing well".   It's complex, I know.

So, speaking of complex - Ted and I are going on vacation this Thursday.  We will be gone for six days in Cancun, Mexico.  We are both so jazzed and at the same time, this isn't a regular vacation.  I know it is tempting to be "jealous" of us.  Maybe put it into perspective, if possible.  I think we are finally ready for a vacation from this life!  We weren't ready when we went to Catalina in September.  An island full of happy families with adorable children was a kick in the gut all day, all night.  This time, we are staying at an adults-only inclusive resort.  We will spend lots of time in the pool and ocean.  We will snorkel, eat and drink (real drinks for Ted and virgin daiquiris for me), kayak, soak up the sun, read (I checked out two "Life after Death" books and "Chicken Soup for the Grieving Soul" from the library on Friday), and hopefully laugh.  We know that "wherever you go, there you are"...but going to paradise has got to count for something I would think.  There is something truly out of body about planning a Cancun vacation while mourning the death of your child.  You want to take care of yourself but it feels so incredibly inappropriate in some ways as well.  I am not sure if I will be able to blog (but I have a feeling I will find a way).  I am definitely NOT planning on checking email (something I was unable not to do even when I was away for my own wedding).  I am thrilled that there won't be any children there. That alone is worth the whole cost of the vacation.  Though, I worry that people will ask me about how many children I have....my big pregnant belly is sure to be a conversation piece.  We have decided that we will just answer whatever questions come up.  Our story won't ruin more than a few minutes of someone else's vacation.  I plan on doing my best to contain my grief as much as possible while we are away but to forgive myself if it becomes to unbearable to ignore.  I'm sure we can't even imagine what scenarios might slap us in the face when we aren't paying attention.  I am hopeful that it will be an escape...and mostly that it will help the days go quicker, they always do on vacation. Ted reminded me that by the time we get back, there will only be a little more than 100 days left until Baby M gets here.  Still, of course we won't want the vacation to end.  Who ever does?  Vacation - bittersweet and complex- but definitely a welcomed distraction.