Friday, April 19, 2013

No Class

The semester is finally almost over for me. I have really struggled to keep up the motivation to finish out the semester. I only took two classes, but it has still proven difficult. I have a class on Monday night that has become my worst nightmare. The class is easy and would even be fun under normal circumstances. It's a tiny class. We have five people in the class, all girls. One of the girls just happens to be very pregnant.

I made the mistake of telling the girls in the class that I was pregnant. I was just so excited. I finally felt like a real person. The pregnant girl and another girl in class talked constantly about their kids. It was great to share my news with them, but it was so hard going back to class after I lost him. I felt ashamed. I know there isn't any reason for me to feel that way, but my heart seems to run on guilt and shame.

At first everyone was ok. No one said anything, which is what I needed. I work best when I can separate painful things from everyday life. The first day I went back, the pregnant girl was not there. She was sick. The second class, there she was. She was about 6 and a half months pregnant with number 3 and she was miserable.

She is like so many people that I have met over the years that take the mere act of getting pregnant for granted. I don't fault them for it. If I had been able to get pregnant easily and quickly, I may have been that way too. It doesn't make it any less painful.

We started a unit on classroom drama. We acted out a story over several weeks involving the Oregon Trail. One of the activities was a "campfire time". We would sit around and tell stories about how we came to be on the trail and about some of our treasures we brought with us. It was all made up, but there was a baby blanket from a lost child and stories of families and babies lost. I now leave that class every week crying.

Last week the pregnant girl came in hobbling, barely able to walk. She was 8 months pregnant and far beyond miserable. She complained the entire class about how awful she felt, how painful it was, how much the baby moved. I almost decided not to go back to class after that night. Her imminent labor was the only thing that helped me continue. This past Monday she wasn't back. I'm pretty sure she won't be back for the last two classes either.

I never said a word, but it really bothered me to hear everyone babble on about babies and such every week as if I wasn't in the room. I could understand maybe if it was a full class, but honestly, shouldn't the teacher elicit a bit of sensitivity?

I feel so horrible. I hate that I had such anger towards that girl from class. I really did though. I had to leave the room several times to avoid a confrontation. I just wanted to scream at her - at the whole lot of them. I wanted to tell her what I would give to feel my baby kick my ribs. I wanted her to understand to what lengths I would go to have Braxton hicks contractions or any of the other things she experienced. It hurt so much to see her so unhappy about something I would sacrifice everything to have.

I know it isn't her fault. We were taken down different paths in life. I don't know how I will feel in the 8th month of pregnancy if I ever get there, so I have no right to be angry with her. I simply miss my baby to the very deepest parts of my soul and I hate the unfairness of it all.

This isn't the only situation I've been in. I'm pretty sensitive to a lot of things still. It frustrates me how insensitive people can be. They aren't intentionally that way. They are wrapped up head to toe in their families and their lives. I hope I can be just as wrapped up in my child's life someday, but I pray that I will never ever forget that there may be people silently hurting around me. I hope I am forever cognizant of other people's situations.

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