Easter. Easter sucked. It was the day I was supposed to be induced. A Leap Day baby and an April Fools day baby. What were the odds? Instead it was our first holiday without Simon. The pain was so raw. I was so numb and the fog was so thick that I don’t even remember how we pulled through. But we did. It sucked, which was to be expected.
My birthday. My birthday sucked. Not only did I turn 40, I turned 40 with one child alive and one dead. It’s wasn’t what I had expected only days prior. It wasn’t what I had ever dreamed my 40th birthday would look like. It was like I had gotten hit by a freight train. It sucked, which was to be expected.
Mother’s Day. Mother’s Day sucked. I cried more that day than I had yet. The pile of tissues next to my sobbing face was as big as Mt. Everest. I couldn’t contain the tears. Snot dripping from my nose. How can your own baby die inside of you? How can he die inside his own mother’s womb. I felt like a terrible mom. It sucked, which was to be expected.
Father’ Day. Father’s Day sucked. I did everything that I could think of that day to make Brett feel celebrated. But the one thing that I could not give to him was his own son. The one that died inside of me. I felt like a terrible wife. It sucked, which was to be expected.
Fourth of July. Fourth of July sucked, and it was completely unexpected. I have never been a 4th of July person. To me it typically marks the ‘near” end of summer vacation or at least the downhill slide towards the school year. It has been a good time to get away, go to the cabin, relax or really, get drunk and watch fireworks. I didn’t expect to really care. But I was wrong. As we sat and listened to patriotic music, I looked around. All I could see were happy families. All I saw were pregnant women. All I saw were babies the age Simon would be. I just started bawling. Right there. I couldn’t control the tears. Simon was supposed to be with us today. He was supposed to be wearing a cute little red white and blue outfit. We were supposed to be a family of four. We were supposed to be happy. We left when we heard a mother call to her toddler. Simon. Of course his name was Simon. Of course. It sucked, which was completely unexpected.
And today, today I feel completely hungover. Hungover from the grief. Hungover from sadness. This 4th of July was a marker of time. Of the time that has passed since I last felt Simon kick. Of the time that has passed since we were anxiously awaiting his arrival. The time that has passed since we said hello and goodbye. The day showed me what could have been, what would have been if he had lived.
And now I know. It doesn’t matter how much I care about the holiday, they will all hurt. What is Halloween going to look like? We already had their costumes decided on. What is Thanksgiving going to look like? My favorite holiday. What is Christmas going to look like? Definitely not what I had imagined.
I had no idea holidays would be this hard.