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I've been MIA. One day I'll give a real update- not a self indulging portrait of my new flatter tummy- all in the name of testing out my new Blackberry, of course.

What snow...

Sure, we have a new President. And in all accounts, thus far... he's pretty kick ass. Of course, he's only a few hours in. Still, I'm pretty sure he had something to do with the fact that we were out of school for a snow day just because the news folk threatened that it might... snow. There wasn't actually any snow, mind you... it seems just the threat is enough to shut down this city.

Perhaps Obama is the Savior? I mean, I really, really didn't want to go to school today.

Go Obama!!!

I sat in the terminal watching my plane get a deicing shower, the younger, fatter boy sitting next to me. I check out all the guys now that I'm feeling fitter and trimmer. Our arms share the rest, as the the holidays have filled the port with folks running back from here and there, presents in hand, bluetooth attached to the ear. We're so connected in our disconnect. I pray there is no layover. The boy chats on his phone and I don't really hear him until he starts to whisper. I feel my ears perk and my head move slightly towards his direction. The book in my lap become an incoherent mess of nouns and verbs. Blah! Blah! Blah! What's he saying?

"I'm sad, mom. I'll miss you, mom. I don't want to go back, mom."

These are foreign sentiments to me. My saddness reflects in that of my mom's. Missing isn't much in the cards for the pain she's caused. And I was more than ready to be back. So I clicked my heals, looked at my wife and whispered in her ear.

"There's no place like home."

The visit back to where I played t-ball and spent my summer swimming miles in the community pool was not horrible. I enjoyed it, in fact, thinking that it could be home again. The city, it's offerings... it could be mine. The pro-hockey, the season tickets to the college games, the drinking with dad. I could fit here, find my way, make a life.

But my cats are chasing tail in our little apartment and there are friends there, near the ocean, that are like family. I feel some drifting away and I recognized no one is to blame. Placing blame is not important. What is is that I miss them, even though I'm home, here, today. And since this writing took this turn, I allow myself to hope. Hope we'll find a way back to that place, that place when I was younger and fatter.

Tears...

And today there were tears.

It felt good to finally let it go, let it out, let them fall. My baby being gone knocked me into a bit of depression that I really didn't think related directly to the loss. But these tears were for the little one.

They were not all tears of sadness.

The Lord needed my child in heaven, for whatever reason, now. I'm happy this one was a chosen one, one that can watch over and do good work now.

Still, the what could have been on Earth saddens me.

I know this baby will watch over its younger brother or sister, when he or she makes it here. I know that one day we'll all be united and perhaps laugh and play together.

I loved my unborn child before I even knew it was growing inside my wife. And I still love that child, though our eyes never met.

Though I've tried to keep a bit of anonimety in this here blog, I've found that some folks I know personally read it and know that it is in fact Me.  Though I try to be as honest and open, that fact clogs up the honesty in these here fingures at times.  You know, because I know folks who know me that read this, I can post dirty pictures of myself from the waist down and have readers guess my age by the number of rings around my penis (Why didn't God think of that?).  Nor can I announce that I have a total man crush on Michael Phelps (Alright, I totally do, but who wouldn't?). 

 

I'm having one of those honesty clogging mements right now.

 

 

Things will be alright.

Yesterday a letter from my brother appeared in my mailbox.  I was expecting it.  I had recently written him in reference to The Wife being knocked up.  I knew he hadn't received word that our little one was without a heartbeat and thus hadn't made it.

 

I normally look forward to receiving mail from my kid brother.  Despite everything, I love the guy and look forward to our longhand communication; however, I wasn't looking forward to this letter.  I sat it on the table and prepared myself for the excitement that would be read through his chicken scratch and horrible spelling and grammar ability-- worse than mine, even.

 

Eventually, I worked up the courage to open it.  And it read as I had expected.  He was thrilled.  He was excited for me.  He assured me I'd be a great father.  He wished he could be around to share it with me and The Wife.

 

What I hadn't prepared myself for was the anger that would follow.

 

My little brother is a father himself.  He and his girlfriend became pregnant with my nephew when she was 15 and he was 19.  They had made plans to abort this child, but never got around to it.  So, when my little nephew entered the world on September 11, 2001 they were not at all prepared.  All of this could be forgiven, I suppose, but my brother failed to ever step up to the parental plate.

 

In the letter he wrote about how having a child brings such joy, how it completes you, and how it causes a life revaluation.

 

Yet, my brother is currently serving a 48-yearr prison sentence for murder.  Clearly, I can't say he's much of a father.  I can't say that he ever took his fatherly responsibilities too seriously, especially the night he became high, and put a bullet in another man's head over some drug deal gone bad.  Of course that all brought to the surface that he use to keep drugs and guns under my nephew's bed, among other disgusting displays of parental irresponsibility.

 

Of course, he voiced all that in his letter... listing his screw ups, regrets, and remorse.

 

Still, it did not make it easy to read.  Him and his advice.  Him and his joy.  Him and his talk about the child he can't raise.  Sometimes life is just unfair.  It's unfair that I won't be a father this go around.  It's unfair that my nephew was dealt a crappy father.

 

I wonder who I'll be unfair to when I write him back assuring him that he does what he can to be a good father, and that I'm alright with God's plan... that things will be alright.

 

 

 

 

Untelling process...

Some folks say you should wait to share your news until after the first trimester.  You know, just in case something goes wrong.  After all, I've read that nearly 25% of pregnancies end in natural demise.  The Wife and I couldn't hold back with our baby news and once we started to tell, we couldn't stop. 

 

I've learned, the untelling process is an interesting one.

 

Some folks seem to know exactly what I need to hear.  Those folks are few.  Others seem to take the news harder than The Wife and I had taken it.  I end up assuring those people that everything will be fine, that it happened for a reason and that me and The Wife are fine.  Other find comfort in the corners of the room, diverting direct eye contact.  For some I've found, it opens wounds of their own personal loss.  Many hugs follow the news...  sometimes tears. Is it odd that I have yet to cry?  Or do I rest assure, like some friends have stated, it will come in time.

 

It's rainy this afternoon, the tear drops tap outside of my classroom rather than stream down my cheek.  I feel a mute of depression, but it's not something unlike the cycle of depression that often seeps in from time to time.  But unlike those times, I don't want to jump off a cliff or put a bullet though my brain.  Something in me is still smiling, a joy much like that which invaded when The Wife told me we were going to be parents. 

 

Those helplessly happy thoughts of what is to come are still swimming. 

 

I don't regret the joy I spread to others, too early for some.  It was a joy that should be shared, a joy that I was happy to share... that I'm still happy I shared.  The pain that followed this time is just the journey to a greater good, a goodness I'm sure I can't completely comprehend.

 

How could I? 

 

You see, I don't feel defeated.  I almost feel inspired.  And though so much of the future is unknown right now.  Will we ever have children?  It's a journey I'm excited to take, with my wife, the woman I love more and more each day.

I see the beauty...

When I found out that The Wife was pregnant it was a surreal experience.  Cognitively, I knew that it really wasn't all that amazing in the grand scheme of things.  I mean, people get pregnant all the time.  The Virgin Mary... that was impressive.  Still, I couldn't help but be proud, excited and thrilled.  I felt like little ol' me (for the record: not a penis reference) had accomplished something pretty miraculous. 

I was a man!  I'd spread my seed.

Reading, it's also not that uncommon for things not to work out.  Medically, doctors call it a "natural demise."  Us commoners call it a miscarriage.  When I told my mom this morning that yesterday our little 9 week baby had no heart beat, she asked if The Wife's body had aborted it.  She meant no harm, but the term made my stomach turn.

We knew there was some issues the first time we went to see the doctor.  Then, the heart rate was well below the norm.  After rushing home to Google through medical journals, I knew the chances of things working out weren't in our favor.  Still, I didn't think it would happen to us.  My Wife is in perfect health.  More, she has a sole that is filled with peace and love.  Horrible things shouldn't happen to such a wonderful person.  Hell, even in my unwonderfulness, I beat the odds years ago when the cancer cards were stacked against me.

People have babies all the time, yet the joy is so unique and surreal.  It seems, though miscarriages are not uncommon, the pain is just as unique and surreal.

Some might call it fear, but this is when I most wrap myself around my faith.  I believe that God has a plan for us. I've learned, humbly, that His does not always match my own.  I'd still have a baby on the way if it did. But I've also learned, that in time, His plan has always worked for the best even when I don't fully understand it.

Is there sadness?  Yes.  Is there disappointment?  Sure.  Still, there is no anger.  I don't feel rejected.  There are no lingering questions of, "Why us."  More so, I don't feel forsaken.

Right now I feel closer to God than I have in years.  I feel closer to my wife than ever before. There is a force that makes me love her more.

Even though muted a bit by sadness, I see the beauty that is all around me.  And if God willing, I can't wait to share it with my future child.

Driving...

My supervisor comes in for a classroom visit.  I try to explain my approach to the subject matter and she does not understand.  Worse, the students will not listen.  They will not do anything I ask.  Despite my every attempt they are oppositional. 

 

I can't stop eating, even though I'm not hungry and I feel like I'm going to vomit, I keep eating.  I don't even like what I'm eating, but I eat anyway. 

 

I'm driving to the YMCA and I can't find it.  I'm lost.  I know the city.  I've driven there 100 in the last few months, but still, I'm fucking lost.

 

Speaking of lost, my keys and wallet are lost.  The Wife laughs as I search.  She swears she did not move it.  Still, it is no where to be found.

 

Emails from work, friends and family.  They are all hateful.  I can't keep them from stopping.

 

I dial 911 because my unborn child is hurt.  The phone will not ring.  There is just emptiness.

 

I try to talk to a friend and she just yells at me.  There is no reasoning; I'm worthless.

 

My wife is angry and I can't explain myself.  I want to help, but I'm not sure how.  I don't even know what's wrong.

 

It's raining and I can't get inside.  I try every door and window, but there is no hope.  Rain.  And snakes are coming.

 

I've quit my job six times in the last two weeks.  I say I want to go back to the regular classroom.  Everyone laughs because they think I'm foolish.

 

Someone keeps taking out the little money I have in the bank.

 

I keep grinding my teeth and they are loose.  They're falling out and there is nothing I can do.

 

The cough won't stop.

 

My cats don't even like me.

 

They say everyone dreams.  They say we dream every night.  I'm not one of those shmuchs that say I don't dream.  I do.  I just don't often remember said dreams, and I do, they're not worth repeating.  Typically they're  a riff raff of strange memories and situations in my past.  You know, say I'm married to my school girlfriend, living in my college dorm, while explaining to my mom how her favorite flower vase was broken.  But my dreams the past few weeks have been vivid, immense, and coherent.  And everything, EVERYTHING is out of control... mainly, out of my control. 

 

I think that I might be going crazy.