Thursday, November 15, 2007

I am one depressing Mofo.

Maybe I get pissy about this at this time of year because November always reminds me of asshat-neurologist month. It's hard to wipe an experience like that from your memory. I was trying to save this for Grudge Tuesday, but this NaBloPoMo has completely messed up my rhythm (of being quite lazy about posting and finding it easy to save grudges for Tuesday) and you know what else? I started Grudge Tuesday, so if I want it to be Grudge Thursday this week, then nyah, nyah, nyah! It's my baby who died, so I think I get to get pissed whenever I want.

So, I only told half of the story last year. It would have been too shocking to post it all at once.
If you're too lazy to follow the link to the actual story, then here is the short version:

  • We had horrible experience with even more horrible Neurologist, Dr. Asshat.

  • We decided to lie about Elijah's age so people would perhaps react to him with less shock and more love.

  • We went to Kauai because we all needed a vacation from the life-sucking very stressful childrens hospital circuit of: Questions/Tests/No Answers/Repeat.
We were having a great time in Kauai - it was just what we all needed. We tested our 'Lie About His Age' policy and had great results, with everyone remarking on what a beautiful little three month old baby he was, "What bright eyes!! So ALERT!!" rather than everyone reacting in shock to his true age. (Can you imagine? Having to lie about a baby's age?)


On one of our last days there, we were staying on the less-familiar south shore and the surf was too high to do anything beachy with the babies, so we decided to go check out the kabillion-acre pools and lagoons at the nearby legendary resort. As we were strolling the lovely gardens and drooling at the multi-level pools, I thought I recognized a friend-of-friend strolling towards us with her family (her husband and their two very lovely and typically-developing children). We both did a double-take and then exchanged hellos, reminding each other who our friend in common was (Marla!!) and why we recognized each other 3000 miles from home (how crazy is that?!), after we all got over the shock of the moment. We finished our walk around the gardens chatting together, and ended up taking the elevator up to the parking lot together as well. Another woman got in the elevator and asked Elijah's name and age - the usual tiny baby small talk.
And I quickly said, "Three months," as I had been lying for ten days already. Then I glanced over at the friend-of-friend; (ohshit) she was frowning slightly and counting months on her fingers, no doubt trying to remember when it was that Marla had made me that new baby meal and bragged to her neighbors (including, of course, f-o-f) about sniffing his new sweet head after he had finally come home from the NICU. (small town, this little mountain) DAMN!
After the stranger got off the elevator, the doors closed and it was just us again. I looked at f-o-f skeptically, and then for some reason began babbling like a brook;
"Umm...I know you know he is not three months. But we have been through so much...everyone asks....we...err....we all just needed a we..ummm.....aren't telling anyone that he is actually eight months old right now." And I force-smiled, suddenly understanding the expression, 'smiled wanly'. And I kissed the top of my pretty little baby's head, which I kept within convenient reach with his baby carrier for those kissing emergencies.
And we said goodbye and that was that.


Because really, who needed any more? This was our vacation and these people were nearly strangers!

But wait! There is more.

Marla wanted to talk to me when we got home. Because her neighbor, f-o-f, had gotten home a couple of days before we had. And it seems they had talked.
(It was then, or it should have been and I would like to remember it this way; that I remembered why I myself was not friends with f-o-f- she was a notorious gossip and shit-stirrer on our small mountain.)
F-o-f had called her right away upon her return. She told Marla that she had run into us in Kauai - imagine! She also said that she was terribly concerned for our baby. Why? Well, it seems she did have a was that f-o-f felt that:
"There is something terribly wrong with their baby, and they don't even seem to be taking it seriously. I am terribly concerned. The parents are just not getting it. Was wondering what you know about them because I was considering calling Child Protective Services."



Again, I love a quick review:

  • Terribly Concerned
  • For our baby.
  • That she had never met before this whole...incident...that seemed to have shaken her so badly.
  • Parents (that's me!) 'not getting it'.
  • Perhaps this warranted a call to CPS....(for what? They took their poor little retarded baby to Hawaii, lied about his age, and should be investigated for...neglect???)

Yes, this is what I lived for real. FOR REAL, PEOPLE.

What did I do? Well, I ranted and raved a whole hellofalot about it. Which was: Very Useful, as anyone could imagine. And I wanted so badly to invite this bitch woman along on our next trip to Useless Children's Hospital or one of our many many therapy appointments, so that she could see for herself, the actual amount of hours that we put into neglecting our baby Elijah. But I was too busy, so I didn't.
These days, I actually have to deal with this woman almost daily. She is still a notorious shit-stirrer. I have kept my distance over the years, but it has been hard. Very hard to not go with my impulse to want to 'fuck her up' (verbally, of course! I am non-violent in my revenge fantasies!), especially considering that this is the very same person who was overheard by a friend of mine stirring up some shit at a party just a few months after Elijah died (I will give her six, but I think it was less). Someone mentioned my name...and shit-stirrer drunkenly blurted out:
"She's so depressing! That chick can bring you the fuck down! Stay away from her!"

small fucking mountain.

Yeah, I know it was four years ago, but what do you think I am, some sort of benevolent saint? No, man:

I will bring you the fuck down.

(New tagline?)


Green Kitchen said...

Gwendomama: Bringing you the fuck down since 2003.

A classic.

Suki Lucier said...

OK, here's a really long comment where I say a bunch of comments I've been meaning to write:

1) So happy that you are doing NaBloPoMo! I am loving the frequent posting.

2) A little bit homophonic? That so killed me the first time around, and then I told my husband about it on our walk to work yesterday and we both laughed ourselves silly. Starting the day that way is such a good thing, so thanks!

3)Your supergirl- such an appropriate name! She is so beautiful physically and it is nice to know that emotionally/spritually (whatever you want to call what's inside us) she's just as beautiful.

4) Can I please be invited to Bubble's next birthday party? I know I'm a stranger and I live all the way in Washington, DC, but your party description sounded so much like my favorite nights with friends. My husband is a huge Grateful Dead fan who has converted me. We are luckily to have some guitar-playing friends, and there is nothing like a good jam session with friends!

5) Fuck that dumb bitch. Bring her down. Hard. In public. Report the play by play back to all of us! What happened to you with her is a perfect example of a phrase I learned from my therapist: well, isn't that just the cherry on your shit sundae?:)

Aunt Jennie/Dee-Dee said...

Suki Lucier? Who rock! Loved the comments and I'm sure Gwendomama will as well!

And sis-in-law? I have faith in you that you WILL bring that bitch down!

nailgirl said...

You know I have been reading your blog for about a year now. I went back and read the archives too. Sometimes i dont comment because well I dont always have anything to bring to the party. Supergirl.... What an amazing child, with a beautiful spirit. You are a bigger woman then me. Not only did you get the worse hand dealt ever in life, but now>>>> you have to deal with bitches like that in your small town. I would bring her the fuck down too. You my friend rock.

Anonymous said...

I live on said mountain, and know of said big-mouth who needs to be smacked down . .
over a year ago while dropping my 4year old off at preschool she made the comment that the previous night we said goodbye to a dying old woman that we knew and loved. Big-mouth looks around and then says, out loud, (drum roll) "We better call CPS" Can you imagine?

Alli's mom from LissAngels said...

I totally understand where you're coming from! And Elijah was beautiful! People can be such idiots!

capello said...

bestest tagline ever.

and OH MY HOLY FUCK, how you managed not to fuck her up is beyond me. i went apeshit on people with darwin's eye accident. and the ER doctor from that did call social services on us. fucktard.

nailgirl said...

See I know that we live 3 hours apart from each other. But if I lived or your mountain, and hung out with you, i would bring that bitch the fuck down lol. It would be hard not too. Who actd like that?

Cindy said...

An awesome and powerful post. You should at least send her the link to your blog. People like this don't often stop to think about how their actions effect others or consider that they may not know what the hell they're talking about, so this could be an educational opportunity.

See you at the Mort's for Yankee Swap?? It's been a long time. . . .

Geener said...

G-Mama: I know the ceaseless love and attention you and dh gave to Elijah. You both were relentless in making his short life as full and stimulating and loving as possible.

Now, I can't really abide by people gossiping/criticizing someone else's decisions, like this mountain woman. You will never know what it is like to be someone else. You never know the whole story of that person's life and why they make the decisions that they do. When people do criticize or gossip, I always think 'that is one unhappy person.' Of course I still support the G-mama in the event that someone needs to be taken down.

p.s. Suki Lucier, the parties that Gwendomama and dh throw are hands down some of the best parties I've ever been to in my entire life! My clearest memory of Elijah's first (and only) birthday party was him sitting on this satin covered 'throne' surrounded by lights and in his silky pajamas, which the entire family also wore in different colors. It rocked.

Blaize said...

You changed your tagline up top to reflect your awesome juju. Excellent! Now, let's go find that woman and (as a posse) bring her the fuck down!