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?)

THIS GORGEOUS BABY?:

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 vacation...ummm....so 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.






Right?


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 reason...it 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."





~~:blink:~~





~~:gulp:~~





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?)