Burst Apart

Someone told me that Elsa was in a "better place with God." That line, out of the many I have heard, pissed me off.

I know, words are hard to come by when faced w another person's grief. I'm also not an atheist but neither am I Christian. Somewhere in between.

To be told that my baby is in a better place is a slap in the face. What better place is there but in your mommy's arms, surrounded by people who love you? Why did I not deserve to hold my beautiful Elsa? What gives God/Jesus/Whoever more of a right to "have" her than me? In my eyes, no one.

She was my (and Gage's) baby. She was a baby that I grew inside of me. I gave her my blood. Nothing will ever feel the void in me and it is insulting to hear someone state a fact that she is in a "better" place.

Late last week, a customer asked me about my belly and when I was due. The first time he asked about my pregnancy (I was wearing a sweater covering my midsection), I tried to ignore it. He kept going and finally I had to walk away. The panic attack came rolling in my chest. I couldn't breathe. All I knew was pain. It felt like i was hearing the ultrasound technician say "I'm so sorry, there is no heart beat." I was thrust back to May 13th.

A few days before then, a customer came in with a tiny little baby. So perfectly newborn and precious. I enjoyed looking at her and felt happiness. Then I grabbed one of her little feet. That was my undoing. I remembered suddenly that I won't be holding Elsa's feet. That I wont ever get to enjoy her soft snuggles and beautiful coos. Instead I'm left w a small container of ashes. It feels like my heart was w her when she was cremated.

I can enjoy my days. I allow myself to be distracted in the flow of life. I have began to master carrying the weight of my grief. I don't look the part of a mother who has had to say hello and goodbye in the same breath. In this moment, the anger I have to people's well meaning words, though irrational, is cathartic in a sense.

Seven Devils All Around You

I am filled w a silent rage. A rage that bubbles up from the quiet depths of my soul. I want nothing more than to pull everything down on top of me. Bring everything down to my layers of grief and hell.

Why? Why me? am I not a good person? Have I not helped and brought countless humans to their feet? Given love and assistance when I knew I wouldn't receive a damn thing in return? Helped multi single mothers get a chance at a job, given them a chance when no one else would?

Why does my life constantly kick me in my very heart? When I finally feel secure in my life and future, trap door after trap door opens underneath my feet. How much more must I endure before the Universe decides I've dealt with enough pain and sorrow? Why must I constantly be tested? Have I not proven that I'm strong?

I haven't forgotten where I started. I haven't forgotten the path I chose for myself that only ended in betrayal and abuse. I haven't forgotten the times where if i just asked for help, I would have been spared much pain. I haven't forgotten the thousands of hot and wild tears that I have shed.

I don't want to give up. Only to give in. Give in to the years of struggling and years of pain. Give in to the ocean of misery. Let the tides of guilt, pain, and suffering wash over my tired soul. Just so that I might dissolve away and have a moment of peace.

I have lost my fight. I have lost my will and what sparked my passions. I am a husk, empty and hollow. I am nothing of what I used to be. The pieces lay across my 25 year long life. They are either lost amongst the wreckage of my hopes, buried beneath cities of disappointment, or crushed by the foot of sorrow. What is left of me but this aching grief?

I've Already Suffered, I Want You To Know God

Thursday I return to work. I'm not sure that I'm ready for this. Seeing the sympathy in people's faces and hearing their words of condolences will only chip away at the feeble wall that I've built over the last couple of weeks.

I will have to bear the weight of 40 coworkers sharing their sympathy. I naturally try to heal people's pain. But what do I do when my loss is the source of people's sadness? Not only will there be the coworkers, but the inevitable questions from customers. Sure, the regulars will have already been filled in hopefully. But the customers who were in often enough to notice the pregnancy. They will ask innocently "Hey, where did belly go?"

When I wake up, I desperately wish that the last two weeks was a nightmare and reach for the belly that is no longer there. Being pregnant is the only time I feel like a Woman. I am filled with femininity and feel as though I glow from inside out. I love carrying a child inside of me. And that was ripped from me. My sweet Elsa May. Not only did I lose that feeling of completeness, but I lost a daughter.

I will have to place a mask of Bravery and explain the loss. I typically am 100% against crying at work considering too many people would revel in any weakness that I might show. How am I to swallow the tears when the pain is still so raw? How can I remain professional and weather through the constant wave of sympathy?

I've been given many typical lines of "Well God needed another Angel." Or "You're still young, you will have more." And my favorite "At least you have the girls still." I know they are said with good intentions, but it only degrades what it is I am experiencing. Yes, I'm young. Yes, I will have more babies and I have my girls. But that doesn't make Elsa's short life just a mere blip. She was a baby that I had dreams for. A baby I had hopes for. A baby that both of her parents wanted more than ever.

I can only dream that Thursday will be a day that I am numb. Today was a day of that empty feeling. So was yesterday. How can I ensure that Thursday I can be strong enough for what is sure to come? On top of dozens of people's sympathy, I will also have to play catch up at work.

I will be throwing myself into work in an attempt to fill a void w no bottom. I made it a goal in the last 6 months to prove those who doubt me at work how wrong they are. No time like now to show them wrong. Even if part of my soul is missing and I feel like a withered version of myself.

Up From Below

Yesterday was a healing day. After the horrible experience from the Binghamton based funeral home, I was very hesitant to meeting with the second funeral home. I have found it harder and harder to be assertive of what I want for Elsa's burial. She's been gone for over a week and the fight in me is dwindling.

When we first arrived, the director acknowledged the girls and asked their names while crouched down to their level to talk to them. My respect for him went up a thousand fold. Yes, a funeral home isn't an ideal place for young children. But this is their sister that we're burying. I don't want to hide the whole journey and path that Gage and I are on after Elsa's death. It's nothing more than a part of Life.

The conversation was emotional, of course. But in a healing and cleansing way. He spoke very gently and made a lot of eye contact. He brought up pros/cons that I personally didn't think about (cemetery plot/etc). Once we made it known that we really just want a simple ceremony, he dropped all of those immediately.

He also understood what I was desperately trying to put into words. I was trying to explain why we didn't want a casket for Elsa and why a cemetery plot wasn't important. I kept saying that this is us separating ways with Elsa and returning her to the Earth. He then says "You're releasing her." That's exactly how I feel. I'm releasing Elsa's body back to the Earth. Her soul is with us, in our hearts. We will always carry her with us through life.

After everything was said and done, I felt more than a little better. I still harbor a lot of grief, and yet the meeting was slightly therapeutic. I feel so much more confident knowing that our wishes are going to be met with this funeral home. I was never bullied whenever I brought up our "alternative" wishes.

My thoughts and emotions that have taken over much of my very being are slowly becoming quieter. A week ago I was submerged in an ocean of darkness and pain. When looking up, I saw no glimmer of the sun, just raw sorrow and grief. Now that I've reached the very bottom, I know where to push off so that I may start swimming to the surface. Having Gage be my support, my lifeline is more than beneficial. Without him, I would have easily just stayed at the bottom. The bottom is a very familiar setting for me considering my past. I also have my midwife to thank. She has been more than just a care provider but an extension of my family. She has gone above and beyond her call of Midwifery.

My milk has dried up enough that it isn't a constant reminder of my empty arms. My stomach has gone back to it's previous state of being flat but still chubby. When I cry, the tears don't burn my skin as much. I've started caring more about my appearance. I'm hoping that when I return to work next Thursday, I will be more than a shadow of who I was when I last left.