037/365: 02-06-10 Arrival and Departure

These two present-unwrappin’ darlins are having a little darlin’ of their own. His name will be Henry and he is due in March. He will be one awesome kid, I’m sure, because he’s got two awesome parents. I love these guys a whole lot and have all the confidence in the world that their baby will be amazing.

I’m not in that photo in any form (wouldn’t it have been smart to take one of them opening my gift? Eh. Hindsight, you know what they say about it). I’m hoping some other shower guests will post their photos online and I can swipe one that’s got my mug in it. But for the sake of Project 365, just in case, I took one in the mirror of the hosts’ swanky bathroom.

Truth be told, I had trouble getting into this shower. Don’t get me wrong. I love Alissa and Jonathan and Henry so much. I plan on loading them up with gifts whenever I can. Rock-n-roll onesies forever. But, two other things happened today.

One, I learned at the shower that our friend Zach left today for Paris to live with his (French) girlfriend and see the birth of his first child next month. They may move back here in a year, or he may never come back. I’m glad he’s willing and able to start a life with his new family, but I would have liked to see him before he left. I’m sad to think I might never see him again.

I took the surprise news badly because I already had departure and sadness on my mind. Coincidentally, the other thing that happened today is a mirror image of the first. (see what I did there?) Another friend, another baby, another year. Today my brother-in-law Andrew left for a year-long tour of dangerous front line military duty in Afghanistan. Their daughter, my niece, is four months old. Andrew is practically a baby himself; he just turned 24. Like Zach, I would have liked to see him before he left. I can’t type the other sentence.

I’ve known today was coming for months. So did my family. Clarksville is next to an Army base, and we’ve known tons of people who went overseas for military reasons. Even family members. But this time is so much harder. I made it through the day with a manageable sadness, but the shower walloped me in a way I didn’t see coming. All that baby stuff and all those baby stories. All the happiness and hope and union. All the good fathers there. Great fathers, in a time when they are scarce. Great like Andrew. Andrew is a great father. I thought all evening about Amber and Andrew and Avan. The photo of Avan sleeping on Andrew’s chest in a frame that reads “I found my prince, and his name is Daddy” that made Andrew cry when he opened it on Christmas morning, which made my sister cry, and which makes me cry just thinking about. Their lives, what they’ll miss and what he’ll see, how much they mean to me and to each other. How goddamn scared and sad I am for them, and how it could never compare to how scared and sad they must be. How it breaks my heart and there’s not a damn thing I can do except send care packages and vote for people who say they’re going to get him out and mean it.

I didn’t tell anyone at the shower. I didn’t want to dampen the mood. Instead I tried to be funny and told awkward stories about other babies, even a story about a three-month-old that might have to temporarily wear a baby helmet that ended in me cheerily telling Jonathan, “I hope your baby has to wear a helmet!”  Not the Best Wishes. But, hindsight, well, you know what they say about it. Also, just now, I realized the frightening irony of me wanting a baby to wear a helmet, given the circumstances. That hindsight thing again.

Alissa told me there were so many shower guests, she worried she didn’t have enough time to talk to us all. “Don’t worry, we’ll all still be here tomorrow,” I tried to say, but didn’t. Then we hugged and I left the shower early.

I cried all the way home.