We weren't kind. We had the best of intentions. But two scandanavian names that no one could pronounce, led to years of frustration on many different fronts. But the names were given in love. Tomorrow, I am going to celebrate that love. But I am worried I will be the one in the corner, with silent tears streaming down my face, unable to think of anything but my lost child. Inevitably, there will be one person, maybe more, who don't understand. One person who will be annoyed by my sadness. My inability to stem the tide of grief, even for one day, one moment.
And I don't want to be the party pooper.