Monday, July 30, 2007

Six months

Today is six months since A died. Tomorrow-- since he was born. The fact that there are two dates, and that they come in this weird, crazy, unnatural order still does something to me. Something strange, like trying to breath, but realizing there isn't enough oxygen in the room, but only for you-- everyone else seems fine, and turning around to take the scene in, and starting to go dizzy and to fall due to that lack of oxygen thing, and getting a very strange, swirling picture of that room, of everyone's faces as you go out.

I am reorganizing Monkey's toys today. I really started last night, but it's not a small job, so I am still at it. Monkey is out of town-- at a rental house near the water with JD's parents. Next week it's my parents' turn. I have a lot to get done, but somehow the one that I decided to tackle first is the toy project.

I had friends over for lunch. Friends that work nearby. There's four of them, and it's one of the best things about not working now-- I get to invite them to my house for lunch. If they remembered the date, they didn't say anything, but neither did I. It was good to see them, even if I felt a little removed. Only a little, though-- remarkably, there were moments when I was right there in the moment with them, telling stories, listening, laughing.

Today is also three years since friends of ours' twins were born by emergency c-section, one alive and one not. I need to call her.

I miss my son. I am getting better at looking at other people's babies. I was even able to look at Rachel's baby yesterday, although I chose not to speak to them. So I can look, and I may even be able to smile at the baby.

But oh, how I miss my son. How I long to hold him, feel his warmth, make him laugh. Feel him do anything, actually. Maybe the most heartbreaking thing to me after he was born was feeling no muscle tone, nothing. To see how big and strong he was, to still remember so vividly the big dance party he had in my belly the night before he died, and to feel no response from his limbs, from him to my touch. I knew he was gone. I still know it. And I still miss him. This physicality of grief is not as frequent a guest with me now as it was in the early days, but it's still here. And today it is here in a vivid, visceral way.

18 comments:

Lori said...

Six months was very hard for me. I remember it clearly because it was right at the same time as my sister's 30th birthday. I barely made it through her party because there was a baby there who was born right around the time my twins should have been due.

Of course you still ache for your son. You always will... it just won't hurt quite so much.

slouching mom said...

I'm here, listening.

Hugs to you.

Beruriah said...

Six months was so very hard, and approaching seven it's not much easier. It sounds like it ought to be some sort of transition moment - half a year - and yet it still feels terrible. And the feeling that time won't slow down, other people won't, despite us.

Your description of A. - G-d it's just so unfair.

Phantom Scribbler said...

(o)

niobe said...

Such a sad post. And such sad memories.

Bon said...

i can't find the words to say what i want to say to this...they won't come. suffice to say, a little of A came alive for me when i read of the dance party, and then the lack of muscle tone at his birth...i too felt his loss and absence, through your words. through your love, and your missing him.

Beth: said...

Words seem inadequate. I am so sorry.

kimca01 said...

You are one strong woman.

msfitzita said...

I'm so very, very sorry. I wish he was with you. I wish the world was fair. God, I'm so sorry.

wannabe mom said...

thinking of you on A's 6 month anniversary. these darn anniversaries are so hard. i made the mistake of going to the mall at 6 months...yikes.

many hugs to you.

Julia said...

Thank you, everyone... It helps to know that you are here and that you understand. Thanks.

Anonymous said...

I haven't had a stillbirth, yet your words brought the grief home to me. What a vivid description of your sadness & loss- I'm so sorry. I've lost 3 in the late first tri, but my losses seem miniscule in comparison to your loss of A. 6 months *seems* like a long time, but I'm sure it feels like a minute ago that you were holding him. Thank you for sharing with all of us.

Meredith

kate said...

Six months is very hard....thinking of you.

Catherine said...

I only hope that these days are peaceful for you...and that you are somehow able to hold your sweet babe close in your heart even though you cannot hold him in your arms.

S. said...

The order of those dates--takes my breath away, too. I'm thinking of you today.

Aurelia said...

I'm sorry. This is so awful.

MB said...

The milestones do get easier. They always hurt and they always suck, but they get easier to deal with. I'm sorry. Hugs.

Anonymous said...

Your description -- of all of this -- is so sad and so beautiful that it makes my breath catch in my throat. I am so so sorry.
--Eve