Come One, Come All, Come See the Pregnant Man with Prison Braids??? (More Grieving Mother Ramblings)

I promise I am going to look up the stages of grief to see what stage I am in, because this roller coaster of emotions either means I am a normal grieving person or I need medication. (Honestly, I probably needed medication years ago).

So, after a chance encounter today I have decided that I feel like a circus/carnival act.  You know the ones at the local fair where you pay tickets to walk inside and see the bearded lady, the smallest man alive, the human donkey.  So come one, come all, come see the girl with multiple baby losses.  I know, I promised to be more upbeat on this blog, but today was a little blah (I have an upbeat story at the bottom of this entry if hearing my grieving rant is too sad).  Today, I finally ventured outside of my room and outside of my house in the real world and I saw this lady that knows me and also knows that Lauren died.  At first, I pretended not to see her, but she turned around to say hello.  We held a mini-conversation and she did not mention anything about Lauren.  She talked to me as if everything was normal.  She did give me this really pathetic look, the look of oh, you lost another baby, but she still didn't mention her.  It really makes me feel sad when people want to talk to me like things are normal.  I'M Not Normal.  My baby girl is dead and that's not normal.  I don't really know what I wanted her to say or if I would rather her just not say anything to me.  For some reason, I have this need to say Lauren's name and for the people around me to at least say her name, because I want her to matter.  I don't want sympathy or people to feel sorry for me, but I want her life to be more than the four days she spent in the NICU.  I don't really know how I want people to respond to me and this is the reason that I still have not been able to talk to my family and friends.  It is really unfair of me to have these random expectations of people and I don't even know exactly what I expect.  I do know that I don't want people to stare at me like I am contagious and I don't want to hear anything negative, like stop trying to have children.  I don't want to hear that for some reason it is better that Lauren is gone, now she is my angel.  I really just wanted my baby girl here at my house with me, my husband and her brother.   So once again, I feel bad that I was even bothered by this chance encounter.

Today, is Lauren Victoria's 1 month birthday.  Happy Birthday Mommy's Princess!  So, maybe this is why I am a little sensitive today.  (See, there was a reason for my roller coaster mood).

Pregnant Man With Prison Braids??? -- A Story From Bed Rest Land
In an effort to be more upbeat.  I am going to tell you about a conversation that I had with my doctor while I was on bed rest at the hospital. 

I have not had my hair relaxed (straightened) in about 2 years, due to an unfortunate relaxer/color incident.  Anyway, I had been at the hospital for 3 days when one of my antepartum nurses walked in and asked me if I needed anything.  I looked at her and said, "Can, I ask you a question?" and she says "sure".  I asked her if there were other African American women on bed rest on this floor.  She gave me with the weirdest look and she was almost to stunned to answer me (apparently this was the most politically incorrect, violation of privacy questions that she had been asked all day).  She hesitantly answered yes and I said, "well, will you ask them what they are doing with their hair?"  She laughed sort of with a sigh of relief, because I don't think she knew where I was going with my question, but she said she would ask around.

A few more days passed and my mom decided it was time to do something about my "bird's nest" - the new nickname for my hair.  It was so sad, she tried combing my hair, which had now turned into a giant matted afro.  As she combed, I was reminded of my childhood, when I would scream and cry as she combed my hair because it was so tangled.  I was trying to remind myself not to cry and that I was 33 years old, but gosh she was really hurting my head.  So, finally we decided that the only thing that could be done to my hair was for her to put cornrow braids in it.  I call them prison braids.  I want to note that I have never been to prison and have never actually seen people in prison with these braids.  I apologize if calling them prison braids is offensive :-).  I called them that because I looked like Queen Latifah from the movie "Set It Off" and she had just gotten out of prison.

The other problem during my pregnancy was the hair on my face was growing like weeds.  When I am not pregnant, I do have to admit that I grow a few facial hairs here and there (okay, quite a few), but nothing like this.  One day for some reason, my mother gave me a mirror and I was devastated by the reflection.  I could feel the hair on my face, but seeing it was horrible.  Quite a few of the hairs on my face were even grey.

I couldn't believe that all of people that had been in my room (my family, friends, the nurses, the doctors) and not one of them mentioned the fuzzy bear that was growing on my face. 

Being on bed rest, is probably one of the most "Un-Cute" times you will ever have, but come on, I was turning into a pregnant man with prison braids and a grey beard!  My doctor comes in and I asked him, if I was his first pregnant santa claus man patient and he laughed so hard that I thought he might pee his pants.  Apparently, he must have thought I looked like a pregnant man, too...

Thankfully, my friend Lisa brought me a few colorful scarfs for my hair and my mom gave me a couple of razors and the problem was solved :-)


Daring to Dream Again,
Von