tell me lies, tell me sweet little lies…

I hate lies. 
I really do. 
I hate when my kids lie to me. I hate that my 13 year old lied to me, just yesterday, about not having broken into the freezer to binge on healthy choice ice cream bars. She lied when we found wrappers in the top of her closet, and in the trashcan in her bathroom. She lied when we found uneaten and melting bars hidden in other locations and then, in a last ditch effort, she decided to scream “I hid them because I felt really bad and was going to put them back, are you happy now?!?!”
Now, in that instance, we knew she was still lying because she’s used “that excuse” about a dozen times, in the past few months, when she’s been caught with something stolen. 
I hate lies. 
The “friend” I have, who lies to me weekly about the stupidest things, (like where she spent a day, or other dumb circumstances I don’t care about anyway.) is about to reach my limit. I’ve been the butt of that juvenille game before and don’t care to be again. 
My little sister lies to me all of the time. In fact, though I love her dearly, i have all but stopped talking to her on the phone and refuse to see her without really solid boundaries because she lies incessantly and I just can’t tolerate the drama associated with it. 
Each of these instances suck. They suck a lot. 
But they are not as bad as a lie can get. 
A dear, lovely person recently miscarried twins. She’s had several other miscarriages so, although it’s a huge loss and incredibly tragic, it is made just a bit worse by the fact that it’s happened before. I have been there, with the several tragic miscarriages and i have been there with the miscarried loss of twins. Those moments are etched in my memory deeper than any other. Those moments were the darkest, most lonely and utterly hopeless moments of my life. 
Second would the explanations… 
The telling people, when you are exhausted of the topic and one more well meaning soul runs into you, in the super market, and they ask you “How is the baby?” 
That’s right, the last time you saw her, you told her you were nineteen weeks pregnant
It never ends. 
If it isn’t that scenario, it’s the getting to know someone new and them asking when you plan to have children, or worst yet, why you don’t have kids. 
My beautiful and recently broken friend was stuck in a place. She was stuck because they had shared the ultrasound photos and news on facebook, and with friends and family. People knew. 
Everyone knew. 
And then the babies were gone, and having been in that wicked and lonely place before, she knew the things that come spewing out of the mouths of well meaning people… 
It wasn’t meant to be. 
You’re still young. 
There must have been something wrong that you didn’t know about. 
This could turn out to be a blessing, you’ll see. 
God just needed another little angel.
I know you you feel, when I lost my ___________
And there are other things said too, from less well meaning people. The sad truth is though, the intention (whether good or bad) does not cushion the blow. And furthermore, even if it’s a fact (such as “you are still young”,) the only reason anyone opens their mouth to say anything is BECAUSE THEY ARE TRYING TO MAKE THEMSELVES FEEL BETTER. 
there, I’ve said it. 
It’s selfish. We’ve all been there, we’ve all done it. I’ve done it too. I have been caught in that awkward place where my devastated friend suddenly sat a widow, and I was at a complete loss about how to love her and relate to her- then suddenly, to make myself feel less odd, stupid things like that began to poor from my mouth. 
Those lies, the ones that tell an empty mother her baby wasn’t meant to be, or that she’s better off, or that it’s a secret blessing- those lies are the worst. They never leave. They echo inside one’s head every time that the ugly little voice of self whispers what an awful woman you are because you can’t have a baby. They leach themselves to your inner bully when it’s manipulating you into believe you weren’t meant to be a mother and your baby is better off dead than with you. 
Harsh, I know. 
Maybe we should all decide together that, when we find ourselves in the awkward position of a grieving loved one (and it will happen, and likely sooner rather than later), we give them a hug (if they want it) and then do something that really does help everyone… Babysit their kids, or better yet, come over to play with their kids and spend time with the friend. Clean their house; make them dinner and then eat it WITH them. Get them out of the house for a walk. Give them reasons to feel worthy of slivers of joy filled moments. Educate yourself on the cycles of grief and love them through them. 
By all means, don’t become the friend who lies about your whereabouts because you just don’t want to be there. Don’t offer to help or love them, and then disappear. 
And lastly, should they (or your kid) decide to binge on a 24 count box of ice cream bars- remember you will laugh about it later, because you are both alive and present and that is pretty great truth.
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