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.

We closed JJ's funeral yesterday with a slideshow of the photos we had taken of her during that brief brief time I got to hold her, and played "goodnight moon" by Jack Ingram. Her daddy stayed after the service to have some final moments with her, and then he put the disc in her casket and closed it for the last time.

today we took her to a small cemetery in Fallon, Texas, and placed her to rest at the feet of my grandmother. She wore a onesie that her grandma bought her as soon we knew of her existence, a sweater and bootie set that my grandmother knitted about 25 years ago before she passed, a Winnie the pooh hat, and her daddy placed 2 Sonic scrunchies on her leg- Daddy is a Sonic franchisee owner, and my sister was wearing one of the scrunchies when she was born. We wrapped her in a baby blanket my grandmother had knitted way back when.

my heart is broken into a thousand pieces. I just don't know what to do now, and I mark time by how long its been since I last held her, or felt her move inside me. Everything just feels wrong- my body is weak and sick, I left the hospital sunday night and have since developed pneumonia, on top of the uterine infection. my heart aches, and my family and loved ones seem to be frightened that I'm not really interested in hanging in here in this world with them. My level of faith has been mediocre at best for years, and I'm having a hard time believing that there's a better place for JJ to be other than right here, in my arms, for me to love her and mother her. I had the hardest time at the funeral resisting the urge to scoop her up and run away with her little precious body.
She was so perfect- she had my hands and feet, and my hair- lots of curly black hair, and she had Steve's chin and ears, and his nose. When she was born, we only had 4 hours to hold her, and instead of letting the nurses take her away to bathe her and clean her up, Steve convinced them to bring him warm water and soap and towels and he bathed her right near me, and she never left the room. He was so tender with her, not a single person in the room had a dry eye. He has been my rock during this time, and whatever our differences have been in the past, they just didn't seem important anymore, compared to making the arrangements to lay our daughter at rest. When he hasn't been able to leave work, my sister Sue, and my mom, Jane, have been there, even just to hold my hand all those nights in the hospitals when I'd just start crying. My sister Joelynn drove down from Austin everyday to keep me company in the hospital while I sent the others on errands to get things done for me- I had them bring bags and bags of clothes to the hospital for me to decide what JJ should wear, and they brought me a computer and helped me find songs to play during her visitation, and also had to bring clothes for me to try on- I had no maternity clothes suitable for a funeral, and didn't know what would fit at this point.

JoSuelynn Jane Menefee McNealy was 8 pounds, 5.5 ounces, 21 and 3/4 inches, born sleeping at 10:15am on November 20, 2008. You are so loved and I thank you for changing my life, my darling only child.