Parenthood did it. They are somehow at the end of their season in February and with no warning, Zoe went into labor. I was caught saying, “No! We’re not doing this tonight?” to no one but the television screen.
I curled up on my couch, back straight, hand over my mouths to stifle the sobs. Phone in my hand, hoping to find some support through Twitter (I did find that I was not entirely crying alone), I sat paralyzed as I watched the scene play out for me. Zoe’s faces, her facial expressions, her announcement that she was not ready, and her tears that she could not do it. All of it, so similar to what happened with me, right there in front of me. I was breathless for a couple of moments, and also figuring out if a sane person would turn the television off. Despite the feeling of being punched in the stomach, I couldn’t stop watching. I watched until the moment in the nursery, where Zoe was holding her son, looking at him the way only a mother could. At that point, whatever sanity I was clinging to at that moment, slipped between my fingers, and I was powerless to the tears. I have a picture of me holding The Kiddo EXACTLY like Zoe did and smiling the same goofy smile.
When she looked at Julia, I didn’t see a girl who wasn’t going to go through with her decision. I saw a girl who just wanted to meet the baby she’d been growing for months. Something she needed and deserved. I still went through with the adoption; maybe she won’t, as truthfully, that does happen more often then is talked about. Forgive me, though, if I don’t feel sympathetic to Julia (in general, I find her personality really grating) in this particular episode; she was so focused on getting “her” baby, that she forgot that in order to say goodbye you need to say hello first. Zoe was still saying hello, and I’d be willing to bet, that she will give her baby to Julia and Joel next week.
I know this stuff makes for great TV, but a little warning would have been lovely. I’m sure it’s hard for people to understand, but these moments on TV, hit really close to home. While I didn’t love Juno, there were moments where my heart heaved a little and I just had to cry out of memory. It happens, sometimes with TV, sometimes with books, and sometimes with a whole lot of nothing.
As I laid in bed, hopped up on cold medicine, (and possibly a bit of ativan), later that night, I mumbled to The Hubby,
“It’s always going to hurt like this sometimes, isn’t it? I’m going to see something, and it’s going to remind me exactly of that day, of the feelings, and how my body felt…It’s never going to fade, is it?”
He put his arms around me, softly, and whispered,
“No, it’s not going to, but it’s okay that it doesn’t. You don’t want it to fade.”
As much as the pain is stabbing in moments of reminders, he’s right. I want to remember it all, because I always want to remember The Kiddo. Even in the tears.
