6 of 30: Hot Glue and Glitter Make Me Cry

I was actually ahead by two posts for a couple of days there, having scheduled at least one post a day in advance, but today (now yesterday because I am/I have scheduled this post to publish approximately 6 hours ahead), I spent it driving four hours on the road so that I could take my mother to the craft show in The Metro.

Always a love/hate experience for me. I love crafts and arts. I hate that they hold it in November. Back in 2004, this annual craft show was my first public outing after my first miscarriage. I really, really tried to find comfort in being around two of my sisters and my mom – girl-time – as we strolled past booth after booth. Unfortunately, I couldn’t help but think, “If I was still pregnant, I would have bought this picture frame; this Christmas decoration; this quilt…” At that time, even watching my mom try to decide what kind of ornaments to get the grandchildren was like a rusty dagger in my shattered heart.

I also couldn’t keep from tearing up every time I saw a pregnant woman or a newborn, snuggled into a woman’s arms while she used the stroller as a makeshift cart. Sights and sounds that were commonly ignored were jarring on my hypersensitive nerves. That day, I excused myself from my family around the half-way point. I just wasn’t strong enough, less than two weeks from the day I was told, “I’m sorry, but there’s no heartbeat.”

In the next couple of years, I declined the invitations to go. Then about two years ago, I agreed to take my mom to it again. It was still difficult, but tolerable. Like having a root canal with a completely numbed mouth. You can’t feel the acute pain, but you know something unpleasant is going on and your brain can’t suspend the reality.

It was like that this year as well. I can’t imagine it NOT hurting just a little bit. I don’t wonder what’s wrong with me for not being able to disassociate this event with my first miscarriage from six years ago, a girl, at almost 16 weeks. Instead, I would have to wonder what was wrong with me if I didn’t remember; if I didn’t feel some pain and sadness.

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