Wednesday, August 4, 2010


After the series of events that began the doomed journey of Baby Mic come the series of events that ended her journey. The first time I bled and knew something was wrong even though I told Ken “sometimes it’s normal”. He knew something was wrong and didn’t tell me anything. Going to the doctor, literally dizzy to the point of nearly fainting and heart beating so hard and so fast that it took all my energy. Slow down. Breathe. I can’t speak; I can’t think. I have to survive this. Little by little, the information was pieced together. The bleeding was not a good sign, but it’s *possible* it was alright. I was measuring a few days behind, but nothing significant. I lay on the table, head turned from the screen, comprehending after the first 30 seconds went by and the only thing was silence. Confirmation from the doctor, who’d relayed the same story three years prior. It all came in digestible pieces. I called Mom in the parking lot of our favorite restaurant to tell her the baby was gone, but I was alright. Through tears, I told two of our children. The youngest cried and asked if we were going to have another.

It wasn’t until the following day when I was again at the very hospital where I’d delivered three live babies and one lost baby – about to have another baby taken from me against my will – that the overwhelming loss suffocated me. I was incredulous. I was angry. I was breathless. I had a headache. I had heartache. Fix that. Give me anesthesia and let me sleep through that.

The focus over the following week or so was on my physical healing, and the condolences and support poured in – sustaining me. I was in the midst of a life changing transformation – in the deepest despair, underwater; not knowing which way was up. Confused, hurt, but for the first time in a long time, in a position to think about what I wanted from this point forward. It was “back to basics”. I was rebuilding my life on a platform of gratitude. I wanted to write, I wanted to volunteer, I wanted to eat my babies up – hug them, kiss them, spend time with them. I immersed myself in my life and the things that had always brought me joy. I felt exposed and raw, and I was starting from scratch. I was filling in the void with gratitude. It was liberating.

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