Tuesday, November 29, 2011


Here is what I haven't said; this is what I can't say;

The loss of her broke me. It shattered me into a thousand wee pieces and left them scattered about. There are days I do not cry, but there is not time I do not remember that she would be this big or this old. Sometimes I wake and have forgotten her absence and then I remember again and am shattered again. But mostly, I don't forget and that is both better and worse.

Sometimes, I am able to believe myself when I wish another mother a happy pregnancy. Sometimes, I'm able to be happy for them. It's easier, of course, when they're happy for themselves. But still, inside, I hate them. Just a little. For having what I don't. And then I hate myself. I don't wish them ill. But the jealousy burns; a tiny, bright flame in my gut tears me up and I hate them.

I am selfish in my grief. Forgetting that he, too, lost her. Curling up on the sofa or raging, tears streaming down my face in the grocery line as he strokes my hair, taking all the sadness in the world and making it mine alone. Your dog died? You lost your job? Your husband left? I don't care. My baby is gone. But of course I do care and then I hate myself, too. I hate that I count her absence in months now, instead of hours or days. I hate that I will one day count it in years. I hate that I have to count it at all.

I hate that the Universe gives baby after baby to mothers who hit them, or drown them, or sell them, or forget to hug them. To mothers that leave them in dumpsters or with some man they met; some man with shifty eyes, alone in the bathtub, or in a hot car. I hate that I walk through the aisles of the store and hear them crying as their mother ignores them and talks on her cell phone about how she's gonna get her hair did. I hate that someone, somewhere, some mythical force, thinks that they are better mothers than me. They must be, right? They have their babies and I do not. Their body kept their baby safe despite them and mine did not.

I hate that I am now the woman who Hasn't Move On. I used to pity that woman. Now I pity myself.

2 little kittens say Meow:

kwr221 said...

oh, I'm so sorry. :-(

Nat said...

I found your blog through the Bloggess, where you had made some witty remark. I came here expecting to be entertained. Instead you made me cry. I am so, so sorry for your loss.
Not all wounds are healed by time. But hopefully, in time, you will find joy. :)