Seriously. Don't. Never again.
Or maybe that's just me, I don't know.
I was working lat week. Yay, money. After I ate lunch, I made my way to the bathroom because after so many kids my bladder hates me. I was going about my normal business when I was at the sink (ok, this was after my business, I didn't pee in the sink) & when I looked up I saw something. I went back later & took a picture because it bothered me so.
OK, it's just a sign, right? When I looked at it, my thought process was literally this...
Well that's interesting, in fact I think I've seen it befo....oh fuck me are you fucking kidding? God dammit, mother fucker. Fuck fuck fuck.
Yes, I'm THAT anti-hand washing. Kidding, of course.
When I went to get induced with Joel, they put me in a room in OB that had been cleared of newborn reminders. One of the only things on the wall was a sign. A sign that I stared at. A sign that fucking haunted me. I read it over & over & over. A simple sign that was all I could focus on. A sign that was in the background when I watched a social worker roll Joel out of the room forever.
A simple hand washing sign continues to haunt me to this day. But not just any...one identical to that sign.
And for the rest of the day, I wanted to jump off a bridge. Even more so after my next classes played sad songs, including Stairway to Heaven. Jeesh.
Things have been rough for me lately. No real reason why besides the normal "my baby died, god dammit" stuff, but what more do you need?
That same day I also encountered the best group of understanding people since Joel died. I was working high school, which is the only group I feel comfortable telling the truth about Joel. If 2nd graders ask how many kids I have, I omit Joel in the count. It bothers me, but 9 out of 10 times they ask how old they are or what their names are. I'm not about to talk dead baby stuff with kids, it'd be bad for all involved. But high schoolers, I figure if it comes up they can understand & go on with life without it ruining their lives.
Anyway, 4 boys. That's all it was, just for senior boys. When sitting around, which was all was left for them to do, discussions come up, usually kids ask if I graduated from that school. That led eventually to asking how often we go back "home" 2-3 hours away. I explained we didn't because most of my family lives in my current area, they asked about my husbands family & I said we don't interact with my husbands family. One kids said that was sad & I couldn't help but to blurt out, "yeah, sad on paper but we actually had a son die & they said some pretty awful things about him to us." These boys didn't look at me funny. They didn't even question the dead baby thing. They just went onto how anyone can talk bad about a dead baby or to parents of a dead baby. Then they told me they hoped we punched them or even ripped their throats out. And the discussion moved on to whatever was next.
No questions. No weird looks. No cliched bullshit lines. No dwelling. No making me feel like a weirdo. Like 10 years ago or so, I would have told you high school boys were assholes. And, well, maybe they still are in some areas, but at that moment I decided that teenage boys were alright. They handled it like it was nothing. And that, for once, was nice.
Off to update my Joel picture blog.