You can find a solid definition of the word death in the dictionary. But when the word death is spoken aloud; when a group has a conversation about it, every person has their own definition. Every person has or will experience death. People, places, memories, pain all come to mind at the sound of the word. There are an infinite amount of ways to die. Every person dies. Most people go before they are ready. Old people die most naturally. Teenagers who live surrounded by bullies end their lives prematurely; scared to witness what real adulthood could turn into. Unsuspecting mothers and fathers, on their way to get their babies groceries, get mauled to death by broken alcoholics who quickly run out of apologies. Pets get poisoned by hateful neighbors. Oceans and forests and all lives contained in them whither due to men trying to support their families. Families who just die.
Tiny little beautiful babies die. They grow up in their mothers womb, oblivious to everything besides the love she has for me, her mother. Oblivious to all besides love and live and the love of live. Completely innocent. Completely blissful. Warm. Cozy. Smiling as she grows at the speed of light. Sometimes Mommy goes to meet her little princess again through ultrasound, and sometimes instead of her waving to the screen, Baby just lays there. Baby lays in Mommy’s womb with no heart beat. But instead of Mommy’s body getting rid of dead Baby, Mommy’s body pretends nothing is wrong. Keeps growing while Baby stays so small. Too small. No air.
Mommy has nightmares about Baby. Her lips. Her toes. Her knees crossed over her empty chest.
Mommy has surgery Friday. In two days. To remove baby.
To remove Baby like a tumor. Like cancer. Which also kills.
Baby didn’t have cancer though. Doctors can’t tell why Baby didn’t want to keep living.
Now Mommy is sure that if she dies, too; if she dies before Friday, She will spend eternity pregnant.
Maybe in the afterlife, or whatever the fuck happens, Baby will decide to live again. She won’t be scared.
So this Mom who isn’t really a mom is going to die, too. Like everyone else.
It can’t be too hard.
Can it?
2 comments
Lonely, your post touched me. I am so sorry for what you are going thru. I think one of the reasons you are not getting much response is that everyone else on this site is in so much pain. I would tell you that you are stronger than you give yourself credit for and to be hopeful for the future…but that would make me hypocritical. I can tell you that it is important to take lots of pictures on Friday. Spend as much time as you need/are allowed with your baby. Lots of snuggles and kisses. Try not to get caught up in the grief as you will look back on your time with your daughter ….you will have a snap shot of a memory…try to not make that memory one that you will regret. Lonely, take care of yourself. I hope you find the peace and comfort that you need.
The only thing is that I will not be able to see her, touch her, kiss her.. I will be under anesthesia, and they will “dispose” of the body. She passed away too young for it to be legal for me to see her. I don’t understand why, and it hurts me tremendously. But I am preparing. Thank you for your words. It helps to know I’m not entirely alone. You hurt, I hurt, and one day we will realize pain is temporary. We will be okay, one day.