Get your own
 diary at DiaryLand.com! contact me older entries newest entry

February 24, 2015 - 5:42 p.m.

Losing a baby. Fern. 12 weeks. 6 days.
'
Everything is transformed.
i feel like i will always remember
verfremdung
what i was wearing.
what the floor looked like
what towels were spotted with blood
what message came through on my phone
what time it was

no one
should have to see the ultrasound image
blurred in black and white
come swirling to life
in red
and dull fleshtones
in their bathtub
adding tears to hot water
pouring out
steam filling the bathroom
while the things you knew
were made visible.

It was our turn to trade shock
I was the rock, stoic
on day one
the day the news came
holding your crying frame
you showed all the symptoms of science
and survival kicking in,
while I sat on the tiles crying
after scooping out the shape of a curled fern
the twin of our 9 week ultrasound
come back
hauntingly
into the present
tense and unable
to pull the flush handle

First in the sink
I couldn't imagine where to put her
then, wrapped in paper into the toilet
it seemed unbearably cold
and fucked up.
I want my mom.

We stood in the shower together
letting the water,
so hot that only you couldn't feel it,
hit us
cramps, crying, talking
trying to cling to some logic
They should really tell you
that it might look
exactly
like a baby.
And it might feel
exactly how you'd imagine it would feel
to lose
a baby.

You don't want to write about it. because it's disgusting. and the saddest thing I think I've ever felt. But we have each other. And somehow that means that we, in the past 24 hours, have found small moments of humour -
Abby's fig, left in the hole in central park.
Other things I can't remember.
Watching Friends and feeling like it's almost normal for a second, until you actually remember
then remember you forgot for a minute what's really happening.
You hope that people will tell each other, so you don't have to. That they'll not look at you so you can see what they're thinking.

You know this happens all the time.
You know no one is okay about this. Those moments when you thought you were, you weren't. That's the body's way.

I think we prepared ourselves for this. We will always get through. But seeing this together, made me cling to you, like you're the last thing on earth. Because something like this really does make it obvious -
the things we can't say.

Yesterday felt better. Tomorrow probably will too.

Now, feels like awful and sad and nothing looks the same. It all looks like the scene where something happened that I can't unsee.

 

previous - next

 

about me - read my profile! read other Diar
yLand diaries! recommend my diary to a friend! Get
 your own fun + free diary at DiaryLand.com!