Frozen

I freeze up when people say how terrible the last month of pregnancy is.

Or how they wish they’d just have the baby early.

Or how swollen their feet are.

Or how they can’t sleep.

Or how huge their baby is–or feels like he is.

Two pregnancies, two preemies, and many months later, and I still freeze up. I sincerely don’t know what to say.

Because what’s in my head–about how I wish I knew exactly what they meant, about how I wish I’d had big babies, about how I wish I had gone full term with just one of my babies, about how I’ll never have any more babies, no matter how I wish I could change those circumstances. All those thoughts swirl in my head. I know I can’t say any of them, and I am sorry to hear people are miserable.

It’s just that having your baby early spares you none of the pain. It brings so many painful, hurtful, awful things instead.

I’m sure no one would suggest they’d rather have two pound babies. That’s not what they mean. That’s just where my head goes. And I know it’s not fair to lay my experiences on them.

So, I say nothing. I try to offer a sympathetic smile. But, I’m sure my face, as it usually does, betrays me. I am an open book.

I’m afraid I just look frozen.

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