Wish You Were Here

Wish You Were Here
Pink Floyd



So, so you think you can tell
Heaven from Hell
Blue skies from pain
Can you tell a green field
From a cold steel rail?
A smile from a veil?
Do you think you can tell?

Did they get you to trade
Your heroes for ghosts?
Hot ashes for trees?
Hot air for a cool breeze?
Cold comfort for change?
And did you exchange
A walk on part in a war
For a lead role in a cage?

How, how I wish you were here
We're just two lost souls
Swimming in a fish bowl
Year after Year
Running over the same old ground
What have we found?
The same old fears
Wish you were here



I had the last paragraph (the chorus) tattooed on my leg on the year anniversary of EB's death.  It was a song he had sung many times and we had listened to together over and over again.  It perfectly encompassed the way I was feeling, and still feel, about his passing.  TB and I have been so lost since his death, we go over the memories and places that were important but none of them have the spark they used to without EB.  These lyrics are also for my baby.  While I don't have the personal connection with this song and the baby that that I do with EB and the song, it again is the way I feel we have been since those huge losses that May five years ago.  When I look at those lyrics or hear that song, I feel that they frame my new life after loss so well. 

A Happy Mother's Day

I spent another Mother's Day without my baby.  I spent another year alone.  There was no scribbled card or sweet gift, there was no tiny smile or breakfast in bed for me.  I did not get anything the other mothers get because I have no one to give me anything.  A sad little pang hits me in the morning or when I see the cards at the grocery store for 'The Best Mom.' 

You know what I did do on Mother's Day though?  Spent a fun night playing games with friends on Saturday that stretched into Sunday morning.  I made breakfast for my husband and ate at the table together.  I called my MIL and gave her my love.  We went to my mom's house to give her our gifts and have a simple and relaxing day with watermelon and friend chicken.  We got to sit around with my parents, my brothers and my soon to be SIL and catch up or comment on the basketball game.  I was able to come home and spend the evening laying around and watching the SVU marathon with TB.  I walked into an apt that was quiet and cool and dark and lay in my bed and do nothing because that is what I wanted to do.  And I was able to because I am not in charge of someone else's life.  I am not responsible for anyone but myself.  I was not awake with a sick child all night, no one complained when we stayed up too late laughing.  I don't walk into the pressure cooker of children's toys and gadgets and baby stuff everywhere.  Not having the blinding light and overwhelming heat of never being done taking care of a little person gives me freedom.  I want more than anything to hold my child but on days like that, days when I can do what I want and come and go as I please I focus on the fact that I have something more traditional mothers don't always have.  Freedom.  No one depends on me to feed, clothe, bathe and entertain them.  No one runs to me in tears or screams at the top of their lungs for me. 

I hate the bittersweet days.  I hate the bittersweet days more than the bad days.  Bad days let me release some of what is inside, they let go of some things I hold on to.  The bittersweet days are the worst because I waffle between the sad and happy thoughts, I try to focus on the good parts but slip back into the bad.

But, when the bittersweet is over and the calm comes back I think back to when there weren't bittersweet days, when there wasn't any sweet at all.  I think about the steps it took to get to a place where I can see the good in the bad and see the other side to my loss.  I think about those things and I smile just slightly because maybe I'm not so damaged after all, maybe I AM getting a little better and a little stronger.  Even though it feels soooo slow, I think I am getting somewhere.  Just maybe.

Black Days

"Fell On Black Days"
       Soundgarden

Whatsoever I've feared has
Come to life
Whatsoever I've fought off
Became my life
Just when everyday
Seemed to greet
Me with a smile
Sunspots have faded
And now I'm doing time
Cause I fell on
Black days

Whomsoever I've cured
I've sickened now
Whomsoever I've cradled
I've put you down
I'm a search light soul
They say but I can't
See it in the night
I'm only faking
When I get it right
Cause I fell on
Black days
How would I know
That this could be my fate

So what you wanted to
See good has made you blind
And what you wanted to
Be yours has made it
Mine
So don't you lock up
Something that you
Wanted to see fly
Hands are for shaking
No not tying

I sure don't
Mind a change
But I fell on black
Days
How would I know
That this could be
My fate

Five Years

Don't cry because it's over.  Smile because it happened.  -Dr. Suess

5/8

I don't know my anniversary or my grandmother's bday but May 8th is a day that I can't forget.  Each moment of that day five years ago is burned into my memory.  Coming home to see TB and RM with their heads hanging low, sitting on the couch waiting for me to get home.  Falling back against the door frame and standing there with my mouth open, unable to ask all the questions that sprang into my head.  Hearing them tell me again that EB was gone.  Listening to the slow words as they left their mouths and the scared look in their eyes because they knew which words were coming next.  The shake in TB's voice as he tried to choke out how he spent agonizing hours home alone with the information, unwilling to call me at work.  That sound haunts me.  Eventually we went to EB's mom's house to visit with her and see what we could do.  She handed over a list of names and phone numbers scratched in his handwriting and asked me to tell his friends.  We all stood around, his mom, his dad, his step-mom and his sister, there with me, TB and RM; each of us staring at the carpet and lifting our heads briefly to meet an uncomfortable gaze of another.  That night we told our friends one by one and then I started on his list.  Only first names were listed and I had no clue who I was talking to most of the time.  The calls crossed Texas and more called in, having heard from others.  I gave out instructions, guidance, information and condolences.  We were all hurting.  We were all missing him.  TB drifted off from exhaustion that night while tears dripped down his sleeping face.  I went out on to our balcony after I knew he was asleep and called my mom.  I just needed to talk to someone, I needed to hear her tell me it was ok since I had said that to so many others that day.  After we hung up I sat out there for hours rubbing my small pregnant belly and crying.  When the sky turned pink with dawn, it all seemed so surreal.  Sometimes I still can't believe that he isn't here.  It has been a very long five years.  I honestly didn't know if I would survive without him, he was my best friend and a piece of my soul.  I still feel a hole inside.  I still feel fucked up.

Its easy to judge

Its easy for you to look at me and say I don't understand.  Its easy for you to say I've never cared for a child so I don't know.  Its easy for you to point fingers and tell me what you would do.  Its always easy to make a hypothetical decision when you know you don't have to make it in your actual life.  'Oh, well I would never be able to...blah blah blah'  'Well if I were in that situation I would just.....whatever.'  I am working through this one emotion at a time, its not a quick fix.

When I tell you I am not planning to have kids (because you are a stranger and its easier than telling you the WHOLE ENTIRE story) its really easy to say that I'm lucky, crazy or that I will change my mind.  When I give a less definite answer like 'we aren't thinking about that right now' or 'we haven't made any decisions yet' its rude to comment about how I must not want kids because I'd rather go out and 'party.'  It's easy for you to think that I just wanna go get drunk and stay out all night instead of have a child because I'm young.  You don't know anything about me.

Its very easy for you to say that adoption is 'the best option' for us because you aren't hurting from the loss of your child.  You can tell me how easy it is to decide to go through that when you haven't looked into the time/money/stress/anxiety that goes into waiting for someone to deem you fit enough to have a child.  The idea of replacing my baby with another still hurts right now, let me deal with it before you push me along to the next step.

Asking if I am 'still grieving' BECAUSE MY CHILD IS DEAD is just rude.  It's easy to say five years is enough time to get over it but you are not me and do not know how I am dealing with things.  I am doing my best here.  To be real honest, I may never stop and that's just fine. 

'You're lucky you can't have kids' is never ok.  For any reason.  Finishing the sentence with 'mine drive me crazy' is not helpful.

Telling me my life is relaxing because we don't have kids is also not ok.  You may have children and I am SURE that is draining but I have doctor's appointments, meds, unanswered questions and years (if not a lifetime) of struggles with my health and whether or not I will get another chance.  It is definitely not the same but it is certainly not relaxing.  Saying that you 'wish you had my life' isn't much better.

Your 'helpful suggestions' may mean well but you are not listening to the way they come out of your mouth. 'Can't you just adopt someone else's kid?' 'You can always have another baby.' 'Now you have a lot of information about what not to do when you get pregnant again.' 'That doctor doesn't seem to know what he's doing.' 'You're lucky you didn't have to raise a baby at your age.' 'If you hadn't gotten pregnant before you were married it would have been ok.' 'You better not tell (someone who is pregnant) you'll scare them.'

Think about the things you are going to say, sometimes they don't need to be said.  Sometimes you don't have to say anything.  It may be easy for you to judge me but I am not judging you.  Stop it.