Friday, January 9, 2015

Small Bump

#writeingrief Day 27



My small baby bump.
I didn’t want people to touch my bump when I was pregnant with Alaska. I’ve never been comfortable with people touching me, so I was very protective of my bump. I don’t remember being as vocal about it when I was pregnant with my boys, but I was younger. Ten years ago I was more inclined to put up with that sort of shit. At Thanksgiving 2013, my mom tried to touch my belly, and I freaked out. I told her that I wouldn’t come to Christmas if she did it again. My stubborness won, but I believe she got another pat in at Christmas. It didn’t bother me quite as much since my bump was at least an actual bump because baby was above my crotch area. I still feel somewhat guilty that I didn’t even want my own mother to touch me, but I also know that I had every right to say no.


And this takes me to the hospital when I was in labor with my dead daughter. Each time I went into the bathroom I pulled my gown tight around my belly to look at my bump and try to will my baby back to life. At that point I would panic and wonder if the ultrasound had lied. What if my baby was actually alive and the delivery is what would kill my baby? I tried to will my baby to just move again, and then I remembered that I hadn’t felt any of those tiny movements for days. And then I remembered that a couple of days ago, I had stopped waking up in the middle of the night to eat a sandwich. And I knew that two ultrasounds of my still baby were not lying. No heartbeat. But maybe I could still wish my sweet little love back to life, right? Maybe I would wake up from the nightmare.


With every trip into the bathroom I became more desperate until I finally tried to just will my mind to memorize my small bump from my tiny baby. Please, could I have this exact feeling of holding my child embedded into my body?


And this begging, desperate wishing, praying, bargaining continues even today. Please, could we just rewind? Could we rewind and change the story? Could I just look in my rearview mirror and see my alive daughter in her carseat? Could we rewind and relive those months where my daughter was alive even if she still has to die? Could we just go back there for a few minutes so we could be alive together again?

Nope. It’s not going to happen. That’s not how this works. It’s ok to still ask when you need to ask. I’ll be here to remind you that no, it’s never going to happen. We can only move forward from here. Tick tock.