The Deal with Christmas

Here's the deal, in case I am not making myself clear:

Christmas this year is not so great. Why? Ahhh, there is someone missing. Something, if you'd like to get abstract about it. Maybe I should include that in my Christmas card. Maybe I should include the damn tag "There is no way in hell that you understand this (despite your best intentions) unless you have experienced it." Quickly followed with "And I hope that you never have to fully understand." You have no freaking clue what runs through my head. The murderous rage that flashes in a red hot second when yet another friend, acquaintance, innocent bystander announces her pregnancy. The ripping, physical pain that announcements such as these ravage on my heart and mind. How much the phrase "knocked-up" tears at me because it invokes the careless ease with which pregnancy was achieved. I don't even understand how I manage to smile and ask warm, thoughtful questions at these times.

My child, my little boy, would be almost 4 months old right now. Do you understand how the truth of that colors the way I cope with my life now? I don't repeat it over and over again, but it's there - a very real fact. Everyone EVERYONE is waiting WAITING for our OUR announcement. I don't have a fucking announcement to make, so stop looking at me. I need a reason to be happy just as much as everyone else does. I need the benefit of another wonderful miracle to take the edge off of this god-awful pain.

Yes, I might be obsessive, but I am trying, DAMNIT, I am being proactive. I am trying so very hard to achieve what it takes so many women one night to attain. Or a broken condom. Or ineffective birthcontrol. Or a few months at most. We're up to a year and a half here. Waiting. Trying. If you don't know what that entails, don't presume. It's not a state of being that you even want a window into. I feel guilty about what I've burdened welcome ears with.

Here's the Christmas Letter:

2007 ~ Family's good, house is good, jobs are good, school's good, dogs are good, baby died. Have a great holiday season.

Do you want that to come to you in the mail? I wouldn't. But if one did, I'd know there was another person out there hurting like me.