We made it this time
… to the art class, that is. I’ve been wanting to write about it sooner but I’ve been avoiding my blog the last week. I hate every post I write as soon as I publish it. I compare my blog to the multitude of baby loss blogs out there. Am I the only one who seems to think that most of the dead baby mamas out there also majored in creative writing? I have got to get out of my own head!!! This blog is supposed to be for me. Why do I care so much?
Anyway, the assignment for the week was for each child to bring a momento of their deceased loved one and share it with the class. Clara brought a picture of Matthew and also his rainbow knitted hat. While I gave her a few minutes to adjust to the classroom and get settled in her seat, I scanned the room and tried to pick out the dead baby parents. I was still holding onto hope that I would find my new best friend here. After bonding so quickly to the loss mamas on MDC, real life people would only be that much better. No one made eye contact with me! I watched in disbelief as the other parents went to their cars and turned the engines on, windows rolled up.
The class was held in a conference room just next door to the hospital. THE hospital, the one where I had Matthew. I hadn’t really considered this fact until I sat in my car, unable to engross myself in a book. I abandoned my book and began to retrace my steps that I made on May 29th. I walked slowly through the parking lot, remembering how I parked right next to B’s truck and how we hugged before going in. I stopped and sat on the stone bench just outside the doors. This is where we sat and waited for the midwives. I remembered telling him, I don’t want to be here.
Inside the hospital, I walked the halls, the same halls I paced in the middle of the night when I couldn’t sleep. I found the chapel and even discovered the scrawled note I didn’t even remember writing. That long night where I searched through the Bible on my knees, desperate to find some verse that would speak to the unbearable pain. Eventually, I made it to the birthing center. My room had been directly across the hall to protect me from hearing the living babies’ cries, such a stark contrast to the silent baby in my arms.
I sat in the small waiting area about 20 ft away from this room for 45 minutes. It didn’t take long for me to realize that there was a new baby in MY room. I had been hoping I could walk into that room and touch the bed and look out the window and remember. Honestly, I was disgusted that my room was occupied. How dare they take a living baby in that room and try to erase my Matthew’s memory. I was hoping to redeem the trip by at least running into one of my nurses. I sat and planned my little speech. I would remind her who I was and she would instantly burst into tears at seeing me again, remembering Matthew. She would ask me how I was doing and I would tell her that while this was the darkest time in my life, I was coping. I hadn’t shirked my responsibilities at home. I was making it… and she would be so proud of me.
I probably don’t need to say that none of that happened. I didn’t recognize any of the nurses who raced past me, undoubtedly to tend to a laboring woman or new mother doting on her baby. I decided I hated my nurses anyway and would never go back to the hospital.
Gosh, it’s almost 2am. I have to stop this!
Matthew's name in the sand on a beach in Australia
Emily said,
August 6, 2009 at 11:35 am
I haven’t got past the first paragraph of this post and I had to stop and comment. I *love* your blog. Please don’t think you have to be talented at writing to reach out to someone who needs help. Your stream of conscious is refreshing, and I love that you throw out the f-bomb on occasion. Yeah, your blog’s for you. And for me. You’ve been a huge help through this process, and I think part of it’s because you seem so approachable.
Now I’m off, back to the post….
Emily said,
August 6, 2009 at 11:43 am
Unbelievable, that none of the parents were interested in sharing their stories. I wonder if there were any fellow DBM’s there. It’d be nice to know their stories…
That took some guts, reliving the birth of Matthew the way you did. But it sounds like you were intent on honoring his memory. I hope you feel like that walk helped you.
We went back to the L&D floor about a week after we had Leila to deliver pizzas to the staff. I don’t need to tell you how hard it was to walk through those doors, even though I knew the nurses I had would be there. So I just can’t imagine how brave you are, doing that so impulsively.
As always, praying for you, sister. And loving you….
Shannon said,
August 6, 2009 at 12:36 pm
I think your blog is great!
I remember the first time I went back to the hospital.. it was actually to have an ultrasound at 9 weeks with my current pregnancy. Not easy going back there when the last time I was there was to find out my baby was dead.. but since I’d already decided to birth there again, it needed to be done.. and I think it’s helped – esp since I’ve gone there a lot this pregnancy! I feel the need to balance out the good memories there with the bad.. (my daughter was born there, my grandpa died there and Dresden was born there… so I’ve just GOT to get another good memory, right?) I hope your daughter enjoys the art class.
Sara Clement said,
August 6, 2009 at 3:41 pm
Just so you know…I love your blog…I love your way of writing, and your honest feelings which resonate so strongly with my own. It helps me. So much.
I hate hospitals…I have had my babies at home ever since my first birth was so awful (a totally unnecessary c-section) and my second proved I could give birth naturally. Three wonderful, powerful homebirths….I was planning on having a water birth this time…didn’t know I was carrying twins which would have ruled that out…we would have had to go to the hospital anyway when they found out…but for me, the hospital isn’t a happy place…and even though my nurses and doctor treated me with such sensitivity…I still remember holding my dead baby in the night and hearing the first cries of another mothers baby and the joyful laughter that followed…and I just wanted to erase everything that had just happened to us. everything.
It is cruel to see life just moving along…without you, while you sit in a time warp that is still in the moment, so clear and vivid…a never ending ache in slow motion.
I wish the other parents understood that it wasn’t just the kids that needed to interact…I wish they had understood it was for them to have the same opportunity….I am sorry you were so alone. ((HUG))
With love…
Sara
lostforwords said,
August 6, 2009 at 9:36 pm
So glad to hear that you guys finally made it to the art class…. But that’s awful that the people there weren’t more open and wanting to support one another. I know you were really looking forward to connecting with someone else who had experienced a loss…. Are there any other support groups in your area? I know there is an international organization called Compassionate Friends, they have a chapter close by me, but I’ve never gone. http://www.compassionatefriends.org/Local_Chapters/Chapter_Locator.aspx is the link if you’re interested…..
You are a good writer, I very much enjoy reading everything you write. I know what you mean about the bloggers who have “majored in creative writing….” That made me LOL.
You are very brave for going back to the hospital where Matthew was born… I totally underestimated the emotional rollercoaster it would be to take the blankets to the NICU a few weeks after Freja died… I’m actually glad that a nurse met us in the room before the entrance to the NICU because I was hyperventilating at the thought of seeing Freja’s spot occupied by some other baby. ((hugs))
Lachlan's Mum said,
August 10, 2009 at 6:01 am
One of the women in my SAND group went to compassionate friends, and she said that they weren’t very compassionate, and that they certainly weren’t her friends. She said that it may have just been that chapter of Compassionate Friends, and that perhaps other chapters are different. She said it was a bunch of men who just wanted to talk about what projects and renovations they were doing to move on with their lives. I’m sure that not all CF meetings are like this, but I just thought I’d give you a head’s up.
lostforwords said,
August 17, 2009 at 3:06 am
Jules, that’s aweful! I haven’t gone to a CF meeting, but it doesn’t sound at all like it would be very supportive in dealing with grief if that’s really what it’s like
I know that my parents went for a while after they lost my brother when he was 18, but they told me that it was good at first but after a while there was nothing else the group could offer them.
Jill said,
August 6, 2009 at 9:55 pm
Just to say, I feel the same about my blog too. For what it’s worth, I think you write beautifully.
I think you are incredible for making such a conscious effort to honour Matthew in your return to the hospital. We’ve been back a couple of times since but I tend to sideline my thoughts about Emma in order to concentrate on whatever it is I’m there for this time.
I’m sorry you didn’t get to meet any of the other parents but I hope that Clare finds her art class helpful.
Inanna said,
August 7, 2009 at 11:47 pm
Just tell your story and share your heart. That’s all it is, and all it needs to be – more than enough. It’s a gift. Loving you, mama, and wishing, too for that RL connection. My grief/loss group (I’ve been to exactly one… missed this month, due to a ginormous premenstrual migraine…gotta love that double whammy) is in the hospital where William was born. I hate that part. I’m sure there will come a time when it won’t mean so much…but right now? Ugh. It’s so hard to be in those places he was.
Steph said,
August 8, 2009 at 2:36 am
Your writing here is what made my heart want to reach through cyber world to hug you. It is both beautiful and heartbreaking. I am in awe of the strength you have to share your journey. Your blog is for you, that’s the best part to get emotions out…but look at how many people you’ve touched with your words and the kind hearted mama we can see because of them! ((hugs)) Keep writing your heart mama, keep writing!
Lachlan's Mum said,
August 10, 2009 at 5:57 am
I’ve also felt that others around here write so much more beautifully than I do, and I think that you’re one of those beautiful writers! Your writing is always so honest and I really like your blog.
I’m glad that your daughter could go to her art class this time. I’m sorry the experience wasn’t what you had hoped for with the other parents. Are there any SAND or other support groups in your area that you could try out? I go to SAND every 2 weeks and have made friends with a few of the women there, and it has been a good thing for me.
I haven’t been into the hospital where Lachlan was born, only to the front to drop my MIL off at the ER (wowee that’s turned out to be a weird story!). I can’t imagine how emotional that must have felt for you. At SAND last week one of the women bumped into a cardiologist who looked after her little girl before she died about 10 months ago. The cardiologist didn’t remember her, and it was just so shocking to her. The moderator also talked about how she bumped into her OB’s wife, and the OB had never mentioned her to his wife. This was startling to these women. These people were with us at such a pivotal time in our lives, a time which we are still coming to terms with months and months on, and yet it isn’t so significant to probably a large number of the health care workers. It seems so strange to think of our time at the hospital as just a flash in the sand, when it was so important to us. So strange to think of someone else using the rooms we stayed in. One of the SAND women did, however, share a story of a health care worker who remembered her from a year ago, and that was a really sweet and moving story.
veganinthecountry said,
August 10, 2009 at 6:23 am
jules, that’s an interesting thought. maybe it’s good i didn’t run into any of my nurses. i would have DIED on the spot if my favorite nurse hadn’t remembered me. i signed up for a short term grief group with sharing parents and that starts next sunday. i’m very hopefuly!
lostforwords said,
August 17, 2009 at 3:06 am
Christie…. I really missed you too while I was gone. How are you??? (((hugs))))