Tuesday, February 24, 2009


Yesterday, my husband's dear friend H called.  Aaron was at work and when I answered the phone I wasn't sure who I was talking to.  Her voice was broken and tearful.  To be honest, I thought I was talking to my mother for a moment, because she often calls me in that condition.  I realized who was really on the line when H said her son's name.

I still don't know what actually happened.  H was nearly impossible to understand.  All that matters is that a four month old baby is gone.

An incomprehensible mish mash of thoughts have been swirling in my head since H called.  I feel sad that I didn't get a chance to know Baby L (I only held him once) and then I am overcome with relief that I escaped the pain of a severed attachment.  I escaped that feeling of overwhelming sorrow and I feel terribly guilty for that luxury.

I want to feel grateful that Baby L has a twin sister for his mother to cling to, but I worry that Baby E will be a constant and painful reminder of the baby that was lost.  Awful thoughts about how much easier life will be with only one baby to care for sprint across my brain, chased out by the image of Baby L in his First Christmas finery.  There is nothing easy about losing a child.

Violet has the cold her father had last week. The wheeze in her chest as she slept was more than I could bear.  I checked on her a dozen times.  I keep stroking her hair and staring at her.  What would I do if I lost my child? I am quite certain that I would turn to dust and blow away.  There would be nothing left to hold me together.  H has another child.  She needs to pull herself together and love that baby and change her diapers and feed her, just the same as she did two days ago.  I don't know how she will do it. 

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