On a streetcar up Market Street. On Ocean Beach, where the sound of the water was the only thing I could hear. The only sound to drown out me crying out. On a plane, where the sound of a baby crying 12 rows back startled me upright from a fitful sleep.
It’s hitting me without warning, in random places, and hard. Grief can be very physical I’ve learned; it can burn right through to your fingertips. Some mornings I let a little white pill dissolve under my tongue in the hopes that I may mellow, and I do. And then there it is again. Her funeral was only days ago. She’s been gone barely weeks. I want her back. I understand how that can never happen.
I am in San Francisco, California. A trip organized by my doting, pained husband to get away from everything and everyone. Knowing full well when he booked it that it would follow us everywhere anyway, sit beside us under palm trees and among the flowers in Golden Gate Park.
I’ve learned that this is intimate, what we’re feeling, and after today I’ll be asking his permission as to what I share, but I do know I’ve been aching for a journal of some sort. I could fill hundreds of pages for what feels like thousands of years. Never be fooled by a calm exterior.
I can’t even sort out what to say because my mind won’t shut off. One set of thoughts is almost immediately replaced by another. We’ve been walking and talking and sharing and the one thing that will remain solid in this is he and I. And he is my reason. My reason, period. Life goes on because of him.
I’ve been told how strong I am. So many times. And I’m glad, as I don’t want anyone else to have to suffer because I am. But what goes on in my head and my heart scares me so much. I miss her so much. I ache for her.
We took a taxi today, from the beach to Fisherman’s Wharf where we’re staying. The driver’s young son sat in the back so I squeezed between him and Stu for the ride. It was minutes before I gave him a piece of gum and asked him his name before he fell asleep, his head on my shoulder. It hit me again. And I wanted to tell his father when I crawled out of his yellow car: cherish him, love him, hold him. You just never know.
But that would have been just a crazy woman ranting before paying her fare.
34 comments
Comments feed for this article
April 18, 2008 at 6:02 am
debbie
i’ve thought about you every day since your last post. i understand what you say about grief being physical. i just want to tell you that i am hoping for you and wishing you both whatever will comfort you most.
April 18, 2008 at 6:38 am
Rachelle
I have shed so many tears over hearing about Sadie’s passing. I have imagined what it would have been like to lose my beloved daughter. And it causes me actual physical pain just to even think about it.
I’ve thought about how Mother’s Day is approaching and that you won’t have your precious Sadie with you. I just want you to know that I be thinking you on that day. Remembering that this is your first Mother’s Day. And I hope there is some way you can celebrate. Because you’re still a mother and will always be.
April 18, 2008 at 6:56 am
Nancy
My heart aches for you. I’m glad you and your husband are strong together, you have each other to help you through. Bless you.
April 18, 2008 at 7:44 am
Connie
You know what? RANT. Tell others what you have learned from this experience. You and Sadie have touched more people than you know and helped us realize that life is so fragile and short sometimes. To cherish every moment, because it may not be there tomorrow to enjoy. There were extra hugs thanks to you sharing your Sadie with us. You are very strong and I admire your strength. Please keep us readers informed regularly on how you are holding up.
April 18, 2008 at 8:59 am
Marilyn
Definitely get your thoughts out… If your husband would prefer you didn’t blog everything, then keep a paper journal. Venting is so important. And I’m so glad to hear you and your husband have bonded together. I did with my husband after our stillbirth and it really got us through the rough patches. Lastly, thank you for sharing with us. I’m humbled by your story, what little I know of it. I’m so, so sorry for your loss.
April 18, 2008 at 9:02 am
Tamara
I’m listening. I’m another invisible shoulder for you, wishing the internet would let me reach through and give you a hug.
xoxo - all my love.
April 18, 2008 at 1:15 pm
Heather
A day hasn’t gone by that I haven’t thought about you and your family. I hope you find some comfort. I wish I could write something that would help but nothing will make this better. We’re thinking of you.
April 18, 2008 at 5:16 pm
catdoggg
not to sound too creepy- but i’m listening too. share as much as you need or want to. we’re all here for you to lean on, so go on and lean, we got ya
April 18, 2008 at 5:55 pm
Brandi
I think about you and your family everyday! I am praying for god to help you both get through this.
April 18, 2008 at 6:12 pm
Alice
Stu is a wonderful husband, and you are a great wife. I’m so glad you have each other.
Thinking of you both all the time!! Much love!!
April 18, 2008 at 6:23 pm
Tricia
If you want to, I’m here. Gobs of love to you and Stu.
April 18, 2008 at 7:30 pm
Emma
I’m listening too, if you need it.
Still thinking of you all the time.
Stu sounds like an incredible guy. And you are strong as hell. You’re still standing - I don’t know if I would be.
April 18, 2008 at 8:13 pm
Carla
I have been thinking about you so much since Sadie’s passing. I have been checking your blog everyday to see how you’ve been, and cry when I see her beautiful little face. Much like everyone here, I never met Sadie, but I love her. Her memory will never diminish.
April 18, 2008 at 9:05 pm
Lauren
I, too, have been thinking of you each day since…
I only know that my heart aches for a family I’ve never met. I could never even imagine what you are going through, but please know that you remain in so many “strangers’” thoughts and prayers everyday.
April 19, 2008 at 12:14 am
JennB
I’ve been thinking about you both, and checking back daily to see if you’re ready to share what’s in your head and heart. Be strong, be weak, be whatever it is you need to be. Above all, be selfish.
Know that there is a supportive community out here in the internet who opens its arms to your needs, your cries, your sadness. And we also know that if you decide not to share, that wish will be honored and respected.
You are not alone. You. Are. Not. Alone. It may feel like you’re haunted, and you’ll never ever get away from this, and that is true. But there are hundreds of people who are willing to listen, and to offer our hearts to you.
April 19, 2008 at 3:51 am
Kelly
Oh my. I did not find your journal until your last post. I took a look to discover that your baby Sadie was born the same day as my Kaity. I have no words of comfort, but I think of you and pray for you every day. And because of Sadie, I have more patience and focus with my girls, and because of her, I hug Kaity more than I did before. Please know that you and your husband and your beautiful angel are in our hearts.
April 19, 2008 at 4:43 am
Steph
I have been thinking about you and your family and checking in daily. My heart aches for you and your husband. I am so sorry for all of your sadness and pain. Sadie’s memory will go on an she will never be forgotten.
April 20, 2008 at 4:17 am
giftwithin
Hug.
April 20, 2008 at 4:42 am
Beth at I Should Be Folding Laundry
Ever since learning of you, you and your family have been on my mind. In February, I lost my twin boys at nineteen weeks, I am heartbroken and so incredibly sad. I can’t even begin to imagine the darkness, solitude and sadness you must be feeling. I am so sorry. Journaling has become a remarkable outlet for me, I hope it is the same for you.
Sadie will never be forgotten.
All of my prayers and thoughts are with you both.
April 20, 2008 at 5:16 am
W. Lotus
I hope this time away with your husband helps you both. I’m thinking of you.
April 20, 2008 at 7:50 am
dagmara
I’ve been checking and checking.. and finally a glimpse. I’ve seen tears before and shed them myself, shed them for you and shed them for Sadie, but everytime I look at your photos I’m reminded of how beautiful she is and how beautiful you are. There is a miracle in those photos and there is hope in your glimpse. I know you will overcome and I know more miracles are to come. I can’t say how or when or why, but I know………. I know that one day those tears will be of joy. Joy for Sadie and joy for the possibilities to come.
April 21, 2008 at 1:14 am
Sarina
Jen, I think about you and Stu and Sadie every day. I remember the all-encompassing fog of early grief: how it made me feel I was going crazy, how nothing felt real, and I didn’t know if I would ever feel stable again. It was painful to see that the rest of the universe keeps going when I my child was no longer here.
It’s good to cocoon and not have to pretend that everything’s okay. We too sought a getaway which was mostly good for the distraction, but our coping skills were low, so could only deal with the bare minimum of interactions with others. Being constantly asked how we were coping, being told what we should be doing was irritating and taxing on our emotional resources, and we withdrew from the world for a while. I found it immensely helpful for me to journal, to email with other newly bereaved parents, find website resources; the internet was a saviour.
I hope that both your time in California and this blog as an outlet will yield tools to cope with your grief. My heart goes out to you. Thank you for sharing your story.
April 21, 2008 at 6:34 am
gwendomama
honey, do whate you need to do. i am not far from you, and will be in the city on friday.
someday we shall meet. but for now, i hold you. until you are ready.
April 21, 2008 at 6:53 pm
NM
Hugs from Toronto…
April 21, 2008 at 7:21 pm
Thursday
You’ve come to mind often even though I don’t know you. I was checking out rosebushes online yesterday and saw a lovely, bright yellow, small shrub rose called Babylove. It may be called Babylove but it’ll be planted in my garden in rural England and will be known as Sadie.
April 21, 2008 at 11:37 pm
Beth
A day hasn’t gone by that you haven’t been in my thoughts. I just wanted you to know that.
April 23, 2008 at 5:42 am
christina
I’ve been thinking of you too–trying to wrap you in the protective prayer of a stranger, I guess. I cannot even fathom your grief. The immensity of it. And I am so sorry….
April 23, 2008 at 9:00 am
Jaime
When you get back from your trip and if you want to get out or need anything - we’re here. You just do what feels right for you. Love you and Stu both.
J & R.
April 23, 2008 at 10:40 pm
Kellybeans
I’m so glad to hear that you and your husband are holding tight to each other. If you want to vent, to rant, to talk… whatever it may be, we’ll listen. Hugs.
April 24, 2008 at 2:29 am
jen
I am so glad you are writing and I also have been thinking about you and worrying.
You and Sadie are in my thoughts too.
April 29, 2008 at 4:46 am
Allison
You are miles and miles away, and all I know of you is what is contained in these few blog posts, but I have been unable to stop thinking about your family.
Our first baby is due any day now. I think every day, that none of us are immune to any of this. You are so right,”you never know.” Please continue to share that…it in no way makes you a “crazy woman ranting.” I could never truly empathize, as I have never been through anything even close to what you are going through. But I do know that since hearing your story I will be never be able to take this new chapter in my life for granted. It probably doesn’t, but I hope knowing that Sadie has touched so many lives will somehow bring some peace…
You are in my prayers.
April 29, 2008 at 7:14 pm
cristen
i found your blog i think from “better now,” and that was the first I knew of you. i kept checking back to see if you would come back. i’m glad you have. i’ve been wondering how you were faring. keep at it. someone in mississippi is thinking of you.
May 1, 2008 at 8:39 am
Christina
Sorry to intruded, I came across your blog, when I did a search for “Precious Sadie’s”, which is my own children/semi precious/formal jewelry. I have a daughter, also named Sadie, and a son who was born with a very rare heart condition, that when I read up on your Sadie, and how short she was in your lives, my heart reaches out to you and your husband in your heartaches!
I have a friend who just started a great network with a few other friends that I know (all canadians) for mommy’s, including a group that you may find some support though of infant loss, from blogs, and message board. Perhaps, you can find some comfort through it, it is called mommy411,
http://mommies4mommies.ning.com/
May 5, 2008 at 12:42 am
Chrissy
You are incredibly strong and I am immensely sorry for your loss. I know there are no words and there never will be, so I won’t offer anything except a virtual shoulder. Hang in there.