Thanks for Something

Thanksgiving was all about the OMG baby, of course.  I did a lot of the work.  And everything was about the baby.  Baby.  Baby.  Baby.

Of course, the baby is perfect.  It will eat from any device.  It will sleep in any location.  It will make some kind of face.  It's perfect.  And then she said that it had sperm donor's eyes.  She said her baby had my husband's eyes.

I was filled with this fucking rage of how dare she.  How dare she steal everything I ever wanted.  How dare she walk in here like nothing happened.  How dare she not even fucking text when my baby is dead.  How dare she not give a shit about the hell I am walking through.  How dare she mock me and all my loss by saying her baby looks like my husband's.  IT'S NOT MY HUSBAND'S BABY BECAUSE THAT BABY IS DEAD.

A few minutes later, when we were still talking about the baby, because what else do people talk about?, I went the back room and cried.  The same room I cried in when I saw her pregnant belly for the first time so long ago.  Maybe they could even hear me this time.  I don't even care.  This is real.

Bisabuela was even worse.  She told stories of that baby and Fancypants's baby (who isn't even blood related to her) and then related them back to the billion other babies in the family.  She looked me in the eye as if she didn't know, when she's the worst.  Oh, and when are we having a baby?  You'll have to ask God.  He took the others.

Sperm donor said he thought the comment about his eyes was flattering.  He would.  He's all about that.

And maybe some of this is a cultural barrier.  I've lived as an interloper in a Mexican family for a long time, and have had very few issues, none once married.  The issues I had were sitcom level jokes about the language barrier.  But I think this one might be cultural.  I think there might not be a language of loss for this.  I think there might not be words for the struggle for what I am going through.   Worse, I think they might blame me (not that I give a shit).

But I feel stabbed through the heart by the way I have been treated.

I could just completely skip Christmas and no one would give a shit.  I understand now why people go on cruises or go to Paris or something for Christmas.  I get it.