Saturday, June 6, 2009

The First Week Without

I take a Percocet for the pain. It gives me also a brief reprieve from the worst of it , which is in my chest and my stomach and under the bones where my heart is, a physical mass of empty space and pain and infinitely impossible yearning, otherwise known as loss. It is after I take a Percocet that I am writing this. Mr. Curry has taken L and D to my nephew's birthday party. For the children life needs to be part sadness and mostly living and this is the way they will learn about grieving. For me I am still in a small hole and Mr. Curry is the only person that is there with me. I move around the house in the grace of his love and his protection and this is a gift I have and treasure more than is possible to express. His eyes reflect the thoughts and feelings I have about our baby that is gone and we do not have to talk. Sometimes when he is pressing his mouth onto mine I feel such a mix of love and grief that I cannot sit still and have to stand up and move about.

Mr. Curry came home from the hospital briefly to take down the pictures of our baby on the fridge. He moved all the baby things into the spare room which is now filled with the stroller, the bouncy seats, the expensive and safe carseat, the baby book which is the exact one as the babies brothers and sister have, already part way filled with messages from all of us when we found out we were expecting, and the books from Kristi, my sister in law, stacked and full of information about birthing and labor that had nothing to do with what happened to me and Mr. Curry and this baby. Mr. Curry came back to the hospital and slept in a cot crammed next to my hospital bed. Every time I had to pee he had to navigate the many wires connected to the saline, morphine and blood attached by slim tubes into my arms. My arms are covered in large bruises. The sweet and miserable male nurse could not get the tubes in and Mr. Curry held my head in his arms as the nurse tried again and again until I thought he might cry himself.

All night I slept and woke and cried as I made my way to the bathroom, Mr. Curry holding and holding my wheeled pharmacy and making comforting noises and telling me how much he loves me and telling me he knows.

My house has flowers in bunches. My work sent the most beautiful roses with a card that said they love me very much and can't wait to have me back at work and is signed 'your family' and that card truly gave me a moment of peace and I feel so lucky to have such people in my life.
My mom came over and made dinner and cleaned this week. My sister in law Kristi ordered and paid for a delicious dinner from Pat and Oscars. I am very blessed to have love in my life. Dakota has been so loving and thoughtful that I find myself crying thinking of it. He is almost 15 but has the emotional wisdom and compassion of a truly special soul. When I came home he held me and told me he loved me many times. He cleaned and brought me water and told me that he was so proud of me and that I am not alone. These are the things that matter and the only things that truly can help. Dakota did laundry and walked the dogs and held me last night as I cried unexpectedly in the living room until Mr. Curry came over and took his place. I checked in with him this morning to make sure he wasn't overwhelmed with that and he told me sternly never to apologize for grieving and that is what family is for. I wish so badly our baby could have known and been loved in this family. Lola has had the hardest time outwardly. She has had one of those sudden maturings children have when they experience loss. She is understanding that death is real and not just something for old people or movies. We have kept a flow of grieving and snuggling with gentle activities so that the children don't get mired.

I am so sad for Mr. Curry. I know in some ways the experience of this for me was traumatic because it happened to and in my body, but I think for Mr. Curry he is having to try to grasp this horrible thing that happened without any physical reality to link it to. I never realized or had thought about what happens when you lose a baby that is this far along, as far as the process and how you have a labor and a birthing and your body acts as if you had a baby but there is no baby. The pain of that is something Mr. Curry and I have to try to accept but it is hard and I find myself getting furious at my body. My breasts are full and have milk. My stomach is soft and full. Last night I was crying with Mr. Curry when L was asleep and I just hit myself in the stomach in anger. I was furious with myself for not taking my prenatals soon enough and not always sleeping on my left side and for having thyroid problems and for being so sick I couldn't eat my vegetables. I was furious for my body letting this happen to our baby. I don't expect to have peace with this. Some things can only be tolerated.

I so appreciate all the comments and emails of support. Coming here and reading them gives me comfort and especially those of you who have gone through this can understand.
PurestGreen said...

I'm so heartbroken for you. This is one of those times when I don't know what to say. But I want to say something. I want to hold you up with words, somehow. And I'm sad because even as I type the letters look like the weakest little chain, and even if I wrapped you in them a thousand times you would only think it was the wind. But it would be me.

Dana's Brain said...

I wish I could write like PurestGreen. What beautiful words.

My heart also breaks for you, and your family. I cried just now reading about Dakota - and everything.

Thinking of you, I wrote a post today about my own experience with miscarriage. I think it is good that you are talking and writing about it. Hopefully some of the support from us will help in some small way.

Maggie May said...

Dana I tried to comment on your post but it said I'm not a team member?

Green thank you.

Jenn @ Juggling Life said...

I just came over from your comment on my blog and am without words. I am so sorry for your loss.

Light and Writing said...

My heart is so sad. I am so sorry Maggie!

anymommy said...

I want to come over and sit with you for a few hours, hold your hand, I'd say make dinner but I'm a terrible cook. How about order pizza?

I'm crying because I know that pressure-filled pain around your heart, because your son is such a beautiful person and your family is so strong in love. I wish your tiny child could be a part of it too, here in the present.

Not The Rockefellers said...

There is pain within this post...incredible sadness...but the love of your family overwhelms it all.

Mr Curry's gentle love was truly touching, such strength, such devotion...

And Maggie, it was not your fault...

Peace - Rene

katydidnot said...

i am so sorry. i can't imagine the devastation. i am thinking of you.

krista said...

i grieve with you and hope that maybe a little bit of yours sticks to me so that my heart can rub it down into something softer before handing it back. i know i can't keep it, it's yours.
and all i have are these fingers flying on keys, hoping against hope to make things better.
for you, for me, for all of us.

Jeanne said...

Dear Maggie, I wish I could change this and make it NOT BE, but I can't, so all I can do is grieve for you and pray for you. You're in my heart.

Robin said...

i am glad for you that you have and experience great love and happiness in your life to help you through the inevitable sadness that accompanies it. hang in there... one day at a time.

lifeandtimesofstella said...

You left such a sweet comment on my blog about my nine-month-old daughter Stella. I came to check out your blog, and was sad to see that such an obviously kind person has suffered such an enormous loss. I am beyond sorry, yet heartened to see that you are in good hands and surrounded by a wonderful family.

Dana's Brain said...

Maggie - sorry, recently had to go private - check your email, there should be an invite to sign in.

Ms. Moon said...

Every time your heart breaks, there is an opening for more love to pour in. It doesn't cause the pain you feel to be any less but it is there, powerful and strong. You are feeling this and receiving this from your children, your husband and also, the people out here who do really care.
Be very gentle with yourself. You may not be able to forgive your body yet, but you will learn to.
There was no fault in any of this. You may not believe this, but it's true, nonetheless.
Take care of your mind, your belly, your bones. Take care of your sweet, sweet heart.
Let yourself cry.
Hold on to the ones you love. They are your anchor, your breath, your strong, strong tree in this wind. They are your rock.

Sandi said...

Time is the only thing that makes it more tolerable. But, the pain never goes away. It just becomes the new normal. It sucks. I hate that anyone else knows the feeling.

The change your body goes though is even more of a slap in the face. The labor, delivery and physical recovery are grueling.... and so cruel when the emotional pain is already too much to take.

I am an hour up the 5 if you need a friend in the flesh. I would love to sit with you.

That one girl said...

Ugh, I'm mad that this happened to you! Reading this makes me tear up. :(

I wish I could reverse this for you all!

nkp said...

A heartfelt "I am so very, very sorry" from me to you, all of you.

tiffany said...

Love of family and friends, that ever-enduring love, sometimes the only light in a darkness where nothing else matters. I'm glad that you are all surrounded with the love of each other at such a difficult time...

Fragrant Liar said...

I am so very sorry for your loss. I cannot imagine the pain of it. Warm hugs I send to you and your family.

Quenchant of the Curious said...

i cried half-way through this, and i never cry. keep up spirit, maggie.

Woman in a Window said...

Never been through it.
But perhaps can understand.
I feel I have this incredible void of pressure in my heart for you, this almost tangible ache for your family. That's all I have. No words of wisdom.
xo
erin

Riley said...

I wish I could write some sort of encouragement and some sort of sage-like advice, but I can't. I do admire you though, because you are trying to get through this the best you can, and it's all anyone could ask for.

ButtonHole said...

I'm so sorry, Maggie.
I can't tell you why this happened, but I do know that it's not for any reaon that was in your control. It wasn't a lack of veggies or the wrong sleeping position or anything you did or didn't do.
Your words conveyed how much you loved the baby from the joy of your very first post.

Jennifer Sullivan said...

I only imagine what you must be going through. I am appreciative of your words, your willingness to let others be a part of your grief. Here is a poem that I really love. You may have read it before. I hope you can find a moment of peace by reading it. I am thinking about you and your family.


The Wild Iris
-Louise Gluck

At the end of my suffering
there was a door.

Hear me out: that which you call death
I remember.

Overhead, noises, branches of the pine shifting.
Then nothing. The weak sun
flickered over the dry surface.

It is terrible to survive
as consciousness
buried in the dark earth.

Then it was over: that which you fear, being
a soul and unable
to speak, ending abruptly, the stiff earth
bending a little. And what I took to be
birds darting in low shrubs.

You who do not remember
passage from the other world
I tell you I could speak again: whatever
returns from oblivion returns
to find a voice:

from the center of my life came
a great fountain, deep blue
shadows on azure seawater.

katiecrackernuts said...

No words. Just love.

Beth said...

I re-read your post There Has Been a Loss. And while I know you only through your words, they show me you are a strong, brave and wise woman. Despite your pain and grief, you are demonstrating your commitment to your beliefs.
You lost a beloved child – of course you are grieving – but you are also aware that you are blessed to be surrounded by so much love.
Take care.

The Quarke Family said...

I'm so sorry for your loss. I can't think of anything smarter or more insightful to say because I've never experienced anything like this myself and don't want to say the wrong thing.

I'm just very, very sorry for your loss.

CashmereLibrarian said...

I am so happy to hear that you have such loving support through this trying time. It's all about love and family, isn't it?
Strength to you and Mr. Curry, Dakota, Ian and Lola!

Love, Evolution, and Resilience said...

Oh Mag, if only there was something to say. Mr. Currey Loves you... there, that's something.

Vashti said...

Oh Maggie. My heart and eyes are briming with tears. I am not even going to try to pretend to know or understand. Just know that I am so sorry. My heart aches for you and the family. With much much love.
V xx

Cid said...

Oh Maggie, 13 years ago next week, June 20th I gave birth to our first child, Samantha at 30 weeks. She was stillborn. You are not alone. Please let me know if you need to talk about anything. The pain never goes away it just recedes into the background and re-emerges at the most unexpected times to remind us of what we no longer have but you have your family, let be your strength as you have been theirs.

Jason, as himself said...

*tears*

Your pain. I can't even begin to comprehend.

Your descriptions of teenaged Dakota touched me the most out of all of this.

I am so sad for you all.

JJ Keith said...

Oh dear. I am so sorry. I lost three pregnancies in a row before my daughter was born earlier this year. No loss is more physical and inflicts such violence upon our personhood as that of an unborn child. The randomness of nature can seem aggressive and cruel, but know that it was not your fault and it was not the baby's fault. I'm just so sorry.

Quixsa said...

It sounds like your family is surrounding you with love and support, just what you need right now. Reading about your ordeal makes my heart ache. Try to not see this as a betrayal of the body. Love your body as it is a stepping stone in healing.

Captain Dumbass said...

You're lucky to have such a loving family around you.

Annie King said...

Maggie, Your feelings are your feelings, but you know, in your head and in your heart, you were not to blame in any way. I wish I knew more to say. I'm glad your family is there with you, and that you are there for them.

JJ Keith said...
This comment has been removed by the author.
sarasophia said...

I WISH.

And my head and my heart and my thoughts and my love cradle you.

Let the stranger whose hand you have never held be the ship that helps sail you a little closer to the shore,

of peace.
of BETTER.


Because I really do WISH I could take it all far far away from you.
And make the happiness come once more.

sarasophia

Miss Yvonne said...

Just stopping by after reading Dana's post...wanted to tell you I am truly sorry for your loss and am praying for your physical and emotional recovery.

Lacey said...

I am so torn up by your loss. But I'm also comforted that you and Mr. Curry are so surrounded by love. Your family (including the good people you work with) is amazing.

The Panic Room said...

I am so happy that you have a guy like Mr Curry and such amazing kids to find your way thru all of this with. You love the world and the people in it so deeply, so of course it will be hard long road to find your tolerance with this loss. I am sorry Maggie.

Holly said...

dakota sounds like a dream :) i cried a little just now

redsneakz said...

My heart breaks for you.

Barrie said...

My heart goes out to you. I've miscarried too. Please know I'm thinking of you from my end of San Diego. xo

Miss Grace said...

((hug))

Shari@aPsychMommy said...

Dear Maggie,

I'm relatively new to your blog, but your words took my breath away. I'm so sorry for your loss.

Diana said...

i'm so sorry you have to go through this. as easy as it to blame yourself for it, i don't believe it was your fault. our bodies just are completely out of control. thank you for sharing this, maggie

Anti-Supermom said...

I'm so sad for you and your family. I'm sad that you visited my blog, saying hello, when I wrote about something so trivial (as I usually do). I'm so sorry that we didn't 'meet' under better circumstances.

I'll be thinking of you.

Rachel said...

I just clicked here from somewhere else, and found this post...

I am so sorry for your loss. I had a similar loss three months ago, and your words remind me of all that happened...you are in my thoughts, and I pray that you can take the time to heal, and recover, and find peace.

This is something no one should have to go through.

wakefield said...

I am so sorry for your loss. Seven years ago I lost a baby at 18 weeks. He had anencephaly. It means basically he had no brain only a brain stem. I was induced at 18 weeks because it is 100% fatality. We held our baby, took pictures and the hospital gave us all of the things they would have given a woman with a live birth. Everyone is different but what got me through was talking about it to everyone. I retold it and analyzed it so many times and got so much amazing feed back that it became a lot more bearable. And when people realized I wanted to talk about it they were so attentive and helpful. I also had a 1 year old at the time and I knew I had to keep on moving for her. The other healing thing I did soon after his birth, was I scrap booked it all. He has an amazing memory album. Amazingly enough, and this may seem insensitive, but I rarely think about it this many years later. I dont know if this helps at all but it's just what I did. I dont think it will work for everybody. His name was Chance Passing.

Mary@Holy Mackerel said...

I'm just going through all your past posts to try and catch up, and I am so very sorry this happened. I know how terrible this is. It happened to me a couple of times, and it's beyond words the pain you go through.
I'm so so sorry, sweetie.

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