(This is a big long ramble, but I just need to get it out of my head so forgive me.)
So we are back. I saw the baby. (I held her, but only once) I tried to pretend I was normal, but could only hold it together for about 2 hours when everyone was around, so I would just hide out in the guest bedroom and read/cry for the rest of the evening. Except for the first night, when I locked myself in the guest bathroom with the lights off and the exhaust fan on to drown out the noise of everyone else talking right after supper was finished.
It was just all kinds of weird. Everyone would reply to me if I talked to them, but it felt like everyone was avoiding me. The only time I held the baby was when we first got there. After my parents held her, my dad gave her to me and I held her for about 2 minutes. My brother never asked me once if I wanted to hold her. I really felt like having a dead baby was some kind if communicable disease so they kept the baby away from me. We stayed with my aunt and uncle and my parents stayed at my brother's house. They all came to my aunt's house for supper every night we were there (D was the only one with an early bedtime) but we were never invited to my brother's house.
I guess I just have to accept that my brother having a child doesn't change the fact that he's an ass. I thought it might make him more understanding of what I have been through, but an ass who loves HIS baby is still an ass.
I barely talked to my mom during the whole ordeal and since I went to bed early the night before we left, I never even said goodbye to her. I figured she knew where I was, if she wanted to talk to me she could try, but she never did. I wonder how long I'll have to wait for the inevitable guilt-inducing phone call how about horribly I behaved during the trip.
Well at least D had a good time, apparently the dead baby taint has not been passed on to her.