Heartbreak hotel.

Ugh.

I promise not to bitch about the whole baby-dying thing too often, but honestly, it is amazing how fast people forget. It's been just over nine months since Abigail died, and my coworker (the one with the incredibly annoying Krusty the Clown laugh) just appeared in my doorway with his girlfriend's week-old baby in his arms, saying, "Hi Ann, just here to show off the baby."

"Oh, that's nice," I said with a patently forced smile, keeping my eyes glued to my computer screen so it would look like I was doing something important instead of dicking around on Twitter. "Congratulations." A few seconds of silence & he drifted away again.

Seriously. It's not like I expect my coworkers to keep track of my life's details, but your child dying is, you know, kind of a big deal. I mean, it was to us. Maybe I'm just crazy. One could hope for a teeny bit more sensitivity from people, though. Or a smattering of memory. I would like to think that if I knew an acquaintance of mine's kid died, it might be one of the few things I would remember about them.

I mean, go ahead and bring the tot to work, but do you really have to bring her into my office? Could we maybe just take two seconds to think about this? Is it just me??

On the plus side, it didn't reduce me to a weeping mess and cause me to flee the entire workplace, as an incident a couple months ago did. Let's hear it for healing! Or whatever you would call this.

For the record, she was tiny. And adorable. My coworker's kid, I mean. But so was my Abigail. Okay, now I'm reducing myself to a weeping mess. I'll stop.