Saturday, January 24, 2009

I may look different, but I'm still me.

Not so long ago, I wrote about sailing for another port, about the journey taken from dead baby land through pregnancy and into, as it was, hopefully, motherhood on the other side. Having reached what I thought was a destination, my destination, I now find that really there are no final stops, no place where you disembark. Yes, I arrived, but my pilgrimage continues. While it seemed to me at the time as though I had to choose, stay in the familiar or let go and embrace the unknown, it really was only for the crossing.
Upon reaching my other side, that 'place' we all look to as our ticket out of db land, I was made brutally aware that while I was given a beautiful child, he wasn't a pass off the ship but rather a passenger traveling with me. And as many may have thought or even noted at the time, a part of me would always remain steadfastly in the land of dead babies. There is no 'get out of db land free' card in this place.
And really we're all straddling the horizon, looking back and looking forward, sure of where we have been and so unsure of where it is that we are going.
In some ways I suppose the dead baby mom label has become quite comfortable. As the poem "Shoes" says, some of us will at some point have walked in these shoes for so long that we will go days and they won't even bother us at all. Reading that poem in the early days after losing Caleb, I couldn't imagine ever having a day pass where I wasn't consumed by his loss. But now, they have and they continue to. I don't feel like less of a dead baby mom because of it, I just feel farther removed from the shock of his loss. I have trekked many miles in these shoes and the wear is beginning to show.
I don't know who I would be now if Cason hadn't joined me. I don't know what my grief would look like or feel like. I know many IRL assume that because you get your live baby you must be complete, fixed, all better now. Even my husband said to me recently when I was talking about the goings on in db land, "Well , you can't really call yourself a db mama anymore can you?" He smiled when he said it and I know, having lived with him all these years, that he meant no harm in saying it, but I looked right back at him and asked,"Did Caleb come back to life? Is he here?" That wiped the smile off his face. But if even my husband thought it, him, the father of Caleb, I can only imagine what others who are farther removed from me must think.
I guess to almost anyone, even a fellow dead baby mom, my rights to the whole package of all things db may seem diminished by the live baby. That makes sense, it really does. Not that I am not allowed to grieve for my loss but that I do have something marvelous to cherish now. It has not gone unnoticed by me that not everyone here has gone on to have another baby, some by choice and some by shit awful circumstance. Even here in the world of dead babies, we all travel a different course. Even though we all deny the existence of the 'pain Olympics' it can't go unsaid that truly some of us have a harder load to bear, face a different challenge, bear the weight of different decisions for the future. And yet, we have this one shared thing, this life altering moment, a bond born out of motherhoods cruelest fate and because of it, we walk or sail, together, (choose your metaphor), always.
While I now carry a live baby in my arms, I will always carry my dead baby in my heart. And even though I may look different on the outside, I'm still here, I'm still me.

12 comments:

Ya Chun said...

Once a dead baby mama, always a dead baby mama.

Were those who had older children not allowed entrance into dead baby land if their second, third, or n-th baby died?

I find my current peace among those I cherish in my life: my husband, our missing babies. For me, it does not take only the next baby. (seems like a bit of pressure for that baby anyway ;) )

I still want to be a mother. That feeling is now becoming more in balance with the desire to be Serenity's mother. They are somehow separate desires in my mind, and my desire to have taught Serenity will never be abolished.

Still walking or sailing (but not jogging) with you...

Aunt Becky said...

What an eloquent post, my sweet friend. I hold you all in my heart tonight and always.

Reese said...

Having crossed into 'official' motherhood, I can say that your words still ring true. My daughter is simply a passenger in the voyage as well, even though I will admit having her along for the ride makes the journey, even though a lot is still unknown, bearable.

Reese

Hope's Mama said...

Also walking with you (no, not jogging either) and hoping to join you on the other side, soon, soon, SOON. but not this month:(

charmedgirl said...

i guess we just don't want to think of this dead baby stuff as forever, like there's some way to mitigate it all, some action or thought process or succcess. it's just too much for the brain. i am still stuck trying to get on the ship, so i don't know.

Shannon Ryan said...

It's forever, we never forget our babies.. my neighbors lost thier boy 43 YEARS ago, and I could see the pain in her eyes as she told me. I think even if the emotions dull, and I feel that they will over time.. hearing about another families loss will always bring them back to the surface. We will always be missing a little bit of our hearts - saved for those sweet babies we never got to know.

Tash said...

Ok if I jog?

I'm really coming to like Loribeth's metaphor about the shoreline. We're all on the same muthaf'n beach, but all of our shorelines look a bit different -- some are rocky, some are eroded more than others, some waves are larger, some look rather unruffled. Not better or worse perhaps, but different. All need respected.

CLC said...

I can't imagine being let out of this "club." It's overwhelming to think that it's forever, but I don't think a day will pass any of us that we won't think of our children who are not here. While I hate to be here in this club, I feel privileged to know women like you and the other commenters here!

Michele said...

The only thing that could make life go on, I think, is having all our babies back with us. It sucks that it wont happen. And hurts so much.

I felt such an ache reading your husband's comment about coming out of db land. Like you, I cant imagine him meaning anything by it. But it still hurt to read. I'm sure it hurt you more to hear, and him to realize in retrospect what he said.

God, I miss my children. Especially right now.

loribeth said...

YaChun took the words out of my mouth/head. None of us ever wanted to be in this "club," but I think we're stuck here. And fortunately, the company is pretty good. ; )

Dalene said...

Yes, we are stuck here in db land forever. I recently came across obituaries of people who have lived long lives and died in their 70s and 80s, and the obituary states they were preceded in death by a stillborn daughter or son many years ago. The hurt and longing never go away.

Lani said...

having recently joined this awful club, i too am patiently waiting those little pink lines to offer me some sort of solace. but i also have come to the conclusion that we will always be babylost parents, silas will always be with us in our heart, but hopefully it won't sting or hurt as much as it does today. that once my arms are filled with a real live baby to love, that this longing will disappear and in its place will be love. i know that i'm in this club for life, and luckily we have an amazing support system, irl and here in the blogosphere, holding us up, every step of the way.

thank you for your beautiful post.