Emotional Feelings

[August 13, 2009 (36 years old)]

Man, that looks old when I write it down. Thirty-six. There. That looks better. Words not numbers. Carey keeps checking in with me about my feelings. It's nice of her and probably necessary, but it's also kind of annoying. I had lunch with Chad and gave him the play by play. And I realized that I kind of just gave facts, mostly. Some commentary, opinion, but not much on my feeeeelings. Sunday I had phone conversations with all the Wagler contingencies. Wayne was first in the afternoon. Mom and dad then Wendy back to back around the 8-9 o'clock hours. Everyone was really compassionate. I confessed to Wayne (without meanint to) about how I really wanted this baby. I was surprised at how much I'd already grown attached to the idea of getting my own kid. Whenever someone talks about fatherhood, it makes me want to puke. Fatherhood. Sounds stupid. My brother did say he thought I'd be a good father. My own dad has said that before. It's not like I'm going to get a book on the subject. I don't really think in those terms. Like, "How would I be as a father?" Not my style. That's not how I mentally role, see. I think more about what I want to do. Like a lot of reading out loud to the child. Teach them some auto mechanics and how to hate professional sports. While Carey was still pregnant I read Dr. Doolittle at nights in bed to her and our embryo. Then half way through Alice's Adventures in Wonderland. My reasons were intellectual and to familiarize el bambino with my voice. I want a smart kid. And I don't want her to wear boring, dumb clothes.

For me, the loss began when Dr. O finally pronounced that there was no heartbeat. Seeing the expelled non-viable pregnancy, a floating mess in the toilet put the final nail in the coffin. At the library I've been slightly upset seeing little kids all alive walking around, eyes blinking holding their mom or dad's hand. That hurts a little, I suppose. Carey's parents are pretty intense about the whole thing. Which I understand being their lost shot at grandparenthood. Sam talked to me. Said he loved me. We got flowers from the Goldenbergs on Saturday. Funny. Both Carey and I said at different times unbeknownst to each other that the flowers were kind of macabre - a dark purple. Probably on purpose, no? Monday they sent us an oak tree to plant. Where we are supposed to put it, I don't know. The card was sad saying something about being in memory of our blueberry baby.