Coherency

Merry Christmas, precious baby girl. I still miss you like the first day I lost you.

what I think everyone should read.

'An Exact Replica of a Figment of My Imagination' by Elizabeth McCracken.

Shadow Babies

Shadow babies are the children that were born close to our babies birth date, or you somehow associate that baby with your own lost baby. They always remind us of the one we lost- I see a shadow baby and I simultaneously am thinking about JJ and about the fact that she's gone. About the fact that she'd be about that size, or at that stage of development.
The shadow baby I associate with JJ is Adrian, my best friend's grandson. He was born the day after JJ. I tried so hard to be happy for her when I got his pictures via email, but I had to delete them. I felt terrible, but seeing pictures of that precious newborn stabbed what little was left of my heart right into oblivion. And of course, the guilt- I should be happy for my friend, and its not the baby's fault that he lived and JJ didn't. But still.
The first time I held Adrian, he was about 8 weeks, I think. I managed to hold him for about a minute before I started shaking. And crying. And I wish now I could go back and hold him and tell him I am sorry for not loving him more at that moment.

Adrian passed away on August 30. He was just 9 months old.

JJ's headstone

is paid for, and being worked on. The funeral home sent me a sketch. It'll be done and set up by her birthday.
it's a good thing.

an email from my bff

Hey I had this awesome dream last night and I wanted to share it with you. First when me and Eric were waxing the red truck yesterday he had it on one of those old country stations and some of the songs playing were reminding me of times I spent camping and fishing with my mom so I suppose that's what triggered my dream. I went to bed last night exhausted but happy to spend time with all the kids and Eric. My dream started out by me sleeping and hearing my mom call my name over and over again. In my dream I woke up, in the dark and was looking around for my mom. And as I walked in the living room I could see her standing there smiling at me with a glow of light surrounding her. She was beautiful. Her skin was glowing and her hair was flowing around her all nice and blond (like she just colored it) haha. I walked towards her with tears in my eyes and she grabbed me and hugged me so tight. We then began to spin around being silly as usual. I was so happy that I felt like I had electricity running through my body in a good way. If that makes sense. When we stopped spinning we we standing in a meadow of beautiful grass and flowers. The sky was crystal blue and the sun was shining but it wasn't hot. Imagine that? Well she then began to tell me how great things were there and how good she felt in her body now that the cancer was gone. I then started telling her all the things going on with me and she stopped me telling me that she knew everything and watches me all the time. We talked about Adrian and then she said that there was somebody she wanted me to meet. So we walked throught the meadow with the wind blowing around us. We came upon this huge playground full of children and under a canopy was all these cribs and playmats with toys and fuzzy animals running everywhere. She walked through the children until we came upon a beautiful crib with ribbons and lace everywhere. As we looked in the crib I seen the most beautiful little girl I had ever seen dressed in white and pink satin gown. The little girl smiled at my mom and stretched her arms out for mom to pick her up. She did and mom gave her a big kiss and hug and looked toward me and said that she comes here everyday and spends time with her. I asked why her. And she said because she knows you would want her to. It was JoSueLynn!!!! Can you believe it? We took her and sat under a big tree and visited until JoeSueLynn fell asleep and then we took her back to her crib. It was awesome I woke up crying not because I was sad because I felt so good inside and I just wanted to go back. I know it was just a dream but I wanted to share it with you. I know everyday is a struggle for you. It is for me too. There isn't a day that goes by I don't think about my mom. I may not talk about her everyday but I think of her. I know JoSueLynn is on your mind and she stays on mine too. I hope you don't mind me sharing this with you. I just felt the need to. Always know that I love you. If you ever need anything I am here. Have a wonderful day!

I am, but I'm not:
a mother
a good daughter
a good sister
a good friend
a good employee
a nice person

My work area at my temp job. i am killing trees here.

circa 1987-ish.

My bff from high school sent me this photo with the following caption: Remember the 80s?

eeek! my highschool prom picture!

crying.

i read something that another babyloss momma posted somewhere: that she cries so much at her daughter's gravesite, that she hopes the tears soak down to her daughter. I feel the same way. When I go to see JJ, I like to stay for hours. I sit in my camp chair, and wish I were there all the time. I wish I were buried there, either instead of her, or right there with her. I'm working like a maniac to pay for her headstone, I am really obsessed with having it up by her birthday. To the point that I am willing to let the house payment go late (and it has), in order to get her stone paid for. I'd like to have a bench put up, too, but maybe later. it would be nice to have a permanent place to sit, and visit with everyone- JJ, grandma, mama joe, papa joe, aunt mattie.

i forgot the point I was gonna make. but oftentimes, things are pointless. I do know that I have cried more in the last 8 and half months than I ever have in my life. I don't know where the tears keep coming from, since I feel like a dried up shell.

things I have laughed about

okay, tonight commenced day 1 of "operation exercise everyday for 10 days". I need a shorter name for it. but I did take my dog for a half mile brisk walk. we are both panting. and we stopped so a 5 yr old could say Hi to La Muttomba, and he told me that he was gonna be starting high school soon. but that he had to finish kindergarten first. then he could go to high school after that.
that made me laugh.

also, the Rock and I went to the movies last night. We saw "the Hangover". oh, that made me laugh sooo hard, for so long. I was worried about oxygen deprivation. and Mike Tyson was in it. and he was funny. that was so surprising!

had you told me 7 months ago that I'd ever laugh again, I wouldn't have believed you. and I still think that I might never laugh again after this. i dunno. I'm just so empty so much of the time. but I did laugh last night.

its been too long.

and I'm still breathing. The depression is overwhelming much of the time. its a struggle just to do what I'm supposed to do to get better: go to work, exercise, etc. I can get to work on time, now. so that's good. and I can go weeks without bursting into tears at work- usually only happens near JJ's birthday each month. But I still wake up to a damp pillow many mornings.

140 Days

Subject: I'm still here.

Thursday, April 9, 2009 12:28 AM

that subject line begs the question- where else would I be?
I'm in the phase of grief where its the little things that are killing me. the things I did before I was pregnant, that I still have to do now. Pay the bills, look friendly at work, act like I'm listening when people are talking, feed the dog, etc, the list goes on. Why do these little things hurt so? because when your baby dies, you can't imagine anything ever being the same, and life can't possible go on. but it does. without your baby. and you have to participate in all these mundane rituals that life requires of you, even though you should be able to say, no, stop! my life has ended, how come the world didn't stop with me.

so back to the subject line. I guess if I had a choice, I wouldn't be here. I'd be anywhere but here.

21 Days

I went to visit your grave yesterday, JoSuelynn. It was 3 weeks to the day since you were born. It’s still so fucking fresh at times, it takes my breath away. Its hard to think of, the fact that you aren’t here. I had no inkling that I might not get to hold you in my arms at this point.

I worried and fretted over things before you arrived, like how was I gonna breastfeed and return to work? I knew that I was supposed to go back to work when you were 6 weeks old, and I worried about the scheduling, and I worried that you would be entering a growth spurt and need me, and I worried about whether you’d be sleeping through the night by then, and I hoped that our bf relationship would go smoothly, and I hoped that while I worked, that you’d mostly sleep while I was gone, and that I wouldn’t have to pump at work, and that we could avoid you bottle feeding as much as possible.

I so enjoyed sending out the “no baby yet” emails, and I had hoped to continue the emails after you were born with your milestones. Or better yet, be so busy being your mama that I didn’t have time to send them out. I’d take that guilt any day over the guilt I have now.

I keep waiting for the other shoe to drop. Wondering what is going to happen to me next. Who am I going to lose now? This abject hurt and loss I feel only seems to intensify, the more I realize how much I have lost. No first Christmas, no smiles, no kisses, no hugs, no coloring on the wall, no wondering if you’ll love barbies like your Aunt Sue did, or if you’ll be a wicked little tomboy, no wondering if you would have loved the noise and speed of those kiddie minibikes, would you have enjoyed riding passenger on a motorcycle, would you be a goth-loving teenager, or a cheerleader, or something in between or a total dork like I was? What else does god want to take away from me? Who else?

I worry so much that you were hurting in there. I read the prelim autopsy report, and I see the injuries listed from the cord strangulation. Oh, please I hope it was quick. I’m completely distraught when I think of the pain and fear you must have suffered- I wish I could have taken it from you. If I could have traded places, I would have, baby girl. I would have gladly died for you. If only I could have. I miss you, but I think this would be a better place with you in it, rather than me. I just spread sadness outwards from me. I told my therapist that I live in the “house of sad”, and that I’m bringing my family down into this black place with me. Her eyes welled up with tears, but she didn’t correct me, as everyone else does. It’s such a relief to be able to talk freely about you to someone, someone who doesn’t try to fix me.

I love you so much. This life is just miserable without you.

December 12, 2008

7 days

It’s been a week since I lost you, JJ. It feels like a matter of hours. The week just blew on by, and the huge gaping hole where my heart used to be has yet to form any softer edges, and nothing has scabbed over. I’m still just bleeding and bleeding and losing blood from the hole in my heart like the day I gave birth to you, and I’m just biding my time until I die from blood loss or I stop bleeding. I have no preference for either outcome. I could just as happily join you in the ground in Fallon, or stay here unhappily in this dreary life, waiting out my time to be with you again. The apathy feels like a betrayal of your memory.

My body is so weak and frail- I feel like the physical illness I’m suffering is a mirror for the illness my soul is suffering. My body will get better before my soul, I know. But I sit here, wearing adult diapers, because my pneumonia causes me to cough so hard I lose control of my bladder, and the three antibiotics I am on cause me to lose control of my bowels, my head aches, my breasts are hard and heavy and hot, and if I miss my dose of Advil, my fever spikes right on up. At least I quit vomiting two days ago. I wonder if this is similar to the upheaval and pain you must have felt during that excruciatingly long labor I went through a week ago. Everytime I see fecal matter in my Depends, or manage to make it to the toilet in time, I remember the meconium I leaked during the very end of the labor here at home. I think how scary it must have been for you, and I ache at the thought that I never got to comfort you after labor- you had already died by the time you were born. I think the time has blown by because the day after I had you, I was released from the hospital. I immediately went with your father to the funeral home to make arrangements, and then home to eat and sleep. By 11 pm that evening, I was being transported to another hospital by EMS for a 2 day stay- a uterine infection had set in. I just struggled to tell everyone around me what I needed help doing, while I felt guilty because these people needed to rest and grieve, too, but getting you buried in honor mattered more. I was so afraid on Sunday morning when Dr. H said that she’d discharge me by Monday morning- your funeral was on Monday! Then she changed it and said she’d let me go that evening- I ended up not getting home from the hospital until midnight. I was running on fumes by this point, and the cough had set in.