The nerves sit ceremonious like tombs;
The stiff Heart questions--was it He that bore?
And yesterday--or centuries before?
The feet, mechanical, go round
A wooden way
Of ground, or air, or ought,
Regardless grown,
A quartz contentment, like a stone.
Remembered if outlived,
As freezing persons recollect the snow--
First chill, then stupor, then the letting go.
Emily Dickinson
Sunday, April 24, 2011
Blindsided by feelings
Then Kate Bush's Woman's Work came on and I began to sink in my posture. That song has always made me sad. It seems to be about labor and birth (to me). Here are the lyrics:
Pray God you can cope.
I stand outside this woman's work,
This woman's world.
Ooh, it's hard on the man,
Now his part is over.
Now starts the craft of the father.
I know you have a little life in you yet.
I know you have a lot of strength left.
I know you have a little life in you yet.
I know you have a lot of strength left.
I should be crying, but I just can't let it show.
I should be hoping, but I can't stop thinking
Of all the things I should've said,
That I never said.
All the things we should've done,
Though we never did.
All the things I should've given,
But I didn't.
Oh, darling, make it go,
Make it go away.
Give me these moments back.
Give them back to me.
Give me that little kiss.
Give me your hand.
(I know you have a little life in you yet.
I know you have a lot of strength left.
I know you have a little life in you yet.
I know you have a lot of strength left.)
I should be crying, but I just can't let it show.
I should be hoping, but I can't stop thinking
Of all the things we should've said,
That we never said.
All the things we should've done,
Though we never did.
All the things that you needed from me.
All the things that you wanted for me.
All the things that I should've given,
But I didn't.
Oh, darling, make it go away.
Just make it go away now.
Maybe it's just about someone dying and loss and regret but of course I think of Milos. And i found myself crying in child's pose trying to hide. And Monty was with his new babysitter. She's been with us for a couple of weeks and I've slowly been letting them further and further out of my sight. So I trust her as much as you can trust someone else with your child which is not really a much but I try my best. So, crying there on the floor I was thinking of Milos and Monty and I wanted to jump up and run out of the room and find my son. Make sure he was ok, feel him, smell him. Mind you I had just left him about 20 min. prior. Sigh this is parenting after the death of a baby. Fear, fear, fear. And whatever progress was made over the last months as he grows past SIDS risk and becomes a more hearty child overall has been nearly demolished by the next phase of having to let him go out into the world with another caretaker and sometimes now just on his own. In front of me, exploring the world on his own two feet, hazard riddled playgrounds and quickly out of sight maze like shopping malls, cars on the street, stairs, ramps, concrete, it goes on and on. And i cried this week more than i have in months because it's already time to let go of him
and trust he'll be ok. HOW? When you've already been so burned? Sometimes i think, nothing could happen because we've already been touched by death and misery but i stop the thought quick because some people just get more than their share and others get none. It's just how it seems to work and I know I won't ever understand why so i need to trust and press on, one day at a time.
Wednesday, January 26, 2011
2nd Anniversary
Tuesday, January 25, 2011
Unposted draft I started on his 2nd Anniversary
Friday, September 03, 2010
Forgetting/Forgiving
Never.
Sunday, May 16, 2010
(Re)touched
Saturday, May 08, 2010
My 1st and 2nd Mothers Day
It's a week since Mother's Day. I am finding it so hard to keep posting here with Monty keeping me wonderfully busy. But I have been writing things in fits and starts...
Last year we tried to escape the grief surrounding the day by getting out of town. It helped a little to be out of the house our first son died in. That Sunday morning we went to a Waffle House in Amish Pennsylvania thinking it would be the last place for any mothers celebrating. But a waiter greeted us at the door with roses who was asking each woman "Are you a Mom?" I paused and said, "My son died this year." And the odd thing was this man didn't even miss a beat, and said, "Well you're a mom then." no surprise or shock like most people and handed me a flower. It was kind of nice to be included.
This year I have Monty to hold in my arms and so it is my first Mother's day as a parent but not technically as a mom. Still, lately when people stop to coo at Monty and they ask, "Is it your first?" I have so far reflexively answered, "Yes" then immediately feel sad and sorry for Milos. I say a little apology to him in my head and explain how if I think I will have more than two conversations with someone I always tell them about him but if it’s just a passing conversation with a stranger, I leave it alone. But… Monty in a way is my first because I am an active parent to him. I’ve been feeling that instinct to nurture and protect him above and before all else. I didn't protect Milos, not enough to get him here alive. So I was not a good mother to him. Last Mother’s Day I felt let down, maybe even like he let me down but this Mother’s day I feel I let him down. I am so sorry my first son. Forever and ever sorry.
Friday, April 30, 2010
In this bed Pt. 2
Emily Dickinson (1830–86). Complete Poems. 1924. |
Part Four: Time and Eternity LXIII |
AMPLE make this bed. | |
Make this bed with awe; | |
In it wait till judgment break | |
Excellent and fair. | |
Be its mattress straight, | 5 |
Be its pillow round; | |
Let no sunrise’ yellow noise | |
Interrupt this ground. |