My six-week postpartum appointment was this morning. It felt like a definitive “end” to such a long journey. No more pregnancy-related appointments, ever. I spent time picking out what to wear, as if I wanted to convey “See? Even five years older, tired, and dealing with a baby after loss, I can still bounce back!” The medical staff would not even notice my effort. It was more of an assurance for myself. Continue reading
I have had so many bad dreams. The one that reoccurred the most was a doctor telling me that something was wrong, or that I had lost a baby, followed by me screaming “No. No. NO!” I would wake from fitful sleep, often drenched in sweat or tangled in my blankets. Continue reading
Use the belief others have in you until you are strong enough to carry that same belief in yourself.
Last night, I said to Ger “I’m doing ok.” Then I woke up shortly before midnight, drenched in sweat, and realized “I’m really not ok.” It is now five days. And by the end of the day, it will be four and a half. Continue reading
Time is a river which sweeps me along, but I am the river; it is a tiger which destroys me, but I am the tiger; it is a fire which consumes me, but I am the fire. -Jorge Luis Borges
I remember so distinctly those first few hours in my hospital room after Quentin was born. One minute, I was feeling constant movement of a baby inside of me, and then he was born and that feeling gone. I have been feeling this baby move for months. Much as I tried to keep myself detached, thinking that distance would help if something were to happen, it became unavoidable as a steady stream of movement captured my attention throughout the day. In those early days of movement, I had to place my hand on my abdomen to feel it, since the anterior placenta made it tricky. It became easier. I could see the movement from the outside. A constant reminder. It doesn’t mean that I loved Nelle or Iris any less, but the time I had with them was shorter. The bond here has had more time to develop into something tangible. Continue reading
We do not grow absolutely, chronologically. We grow sometimes in one dimension, and not in another; unevenly. We grow partially. We are relative. We are mature in one realm, childish in another. The past, present, and future mingle and pull us backward, forward, or fix us in the present. We are made up of layers, cells, constellations.
As the days diminish, now down to thirteen, it is a constant back-and-forth between “everything will be fine” and “something terrible will happen.” I spent Friday and part of Saturday in good spirits, mentally thinking ahead to the checklist of things that we need to do once the baby is born, things that I refuse to do in advance. By Saturday afternoon, I was hit with “Something will go wrong. Something has been missed. Or what if there is an unrelated complication?” I was back to a place of not being able to picture bringing this baby home. That it will continue to be just four of us. That all of the expanded space I have allowed in my heart will remain empty. Continue reading