When I try to sort out my thoughts in the midst of a painful moment I realize one feeling is standing out. It’s strongest during one of two times. At night, when I try in vain for hours to fall asleep. Second, when I see happy strangers carrying their beautiful babies, contented smiles on their faces. I realize the dull ache that I can’t seem to shake is a feeling of uselessness. There was something I was supposed to be doing now. I had prepared through long months for it. I had dreamt about it, longed for it, studied for it. I believed I was meant to do it. I believed I would be good at it when the time came, and believe I wasn’t half bad when it did. I was supposed to be taking care of her now. Now and for the rest of my life.
It feels as though someone came along and ruthlessly ripped my future straight out of my arms. They dangle at my sides more now, when they should be holding her, feeding her. Keeping her safe. The instinct is still so strong I can’t help but think that I somehow didn’t do my job properly, because if I had she’d be resting her head in my neck still, right where I could continue falling in love with the feeling of her breath against my skin. Fast asleep because it was her favourite spot, the only spot that ever seemed to soothe her, right up until the end.
I’m not easily fooled. I know when someone senses me start to lose concentration and changes the subject abruptly. They ask me a question about something completely unrelated as though trying to ease my brain away from some unknown sad thought they will never understand. And I suppose that’s fine, I never want to be that person who can’t function or is no longer tolerable to be around. I understand their intentions are kind enough: keep her occupied, keep her thinking about happier things, or any thing. Anything else.
I could easily scream or bite or break sometimes. Anything in my wake should be destroyed because I lost her and fuck you, it’s just not fair. It’s the most unfair thing anyone ever could possibly think of in the history of life. She was perfect and beautiful and unbelievably funny. She was mine. And it’s so cruel that I want revenge on a nameless, faceless entity responsible for her not being here.
Instead I breathe. Maybe I medicate or drink too much. I find a way to force it to pass until the next time. You’ll just have to forgive me for it while it remains. Because I just couldn’t care less about what anyone thinks. My anger is much too strong for that.

21 comments
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April 29, 2008 at 1:37 am
Annie
You have every reason to be angry, every right to be furious at the world. Your ability to put what you are feeling into words is incredible and may be what pulls you through this dark time.
It has been said so many times, but I truly am sorry for your loss. No mother should ever have to be without her child. I wish I knew what else to say.
April 29, 2008 at 2:11 am
Beth
I type and delete and re-type, trying to fiqure out the right words to use to bring you some comfort, any comfort. There are none. I’m just so very sorry for your loss.
April 29, 2008 at 2:17 am
Tracey
When I was 15 my mum died. I only lived with her and my sister. At the time it felt like my heart had a huge gaping hole in it.
Now i have only a hole smaller than a pinprick. But this is a good hole because it reminds me that the person i am now is because of what i went through back then… a better person, more grateful, more loving, more scared sometimes but more of everything that is good about someone too.
I hope your hole starts to close soon too. I will lend you some of my mended heart to fill yours up with if not.
x
April 29, 2008 at 3:11 am
Jaime
let it all out, Jen, you’re entitled.
April 29, 2008 at 3:46 am
Nancy
You’re in my thoughts so often. I wish I could say anything at all that would help your pain.
April 29, 2008 at 5:07 am
dagmara
Keep typing Jen. Steven and I are reading it all. We are listening.
April 29, 2008 at 5:42 am
Tricia
Yes, please do keep typing. We’re here ready to listen to it all.
xo
April 29, 2008 at 7:24 am
Connie
Yes, curse, break things, scream, type angry words, do whatever it takes to start to mend your broken heart. We are here to listen, and Jen, we will always be here. We don’t know you, but we love you. Stay strong.
April 29, 2008 at 7:16 pm
cristen
well-written.
April 29, 2008 at 7:18 pm
cristen
it may not help you to know, but i was a victim of a violent crime about 15 yrs ago, and people who know me now would never guess. as they say, time heals. it’s just getting through that time that’s rough. but you can do it. and you will be okay again, some day.
April 29, 2008 at 8:30 pm
Emma
Literally, when I pick up Callum, I think to myself, Jen should be picking up Sadie and it’s not bloody fair that she isn’t. It is the cruelest thing and you don’t deserve it. I’m so incredibly sorry.
April 29, 2008 at 10:23 pm
willikat
I’m so sorry. A total stranger, yet I find myself thinking of your situation and sending healing feelings your way. But you aren’t there yet; you don’t have to be. Submerging feelings is not helpful, so go ahead and be angry.
April 30, 2008 at 8:27 pm
Julie
I wish there was a way to ease the pain you’re going through. I remember being in the hospital going through labour & delivery at 16 weeks pregnant, knowing I was losing our baby, and the nurse told me ‘You won’t get over this but you WILL get through it’. Those words have stuck with me for over 3 years now. Time does heal all wounds but remember there is no set time and there are no rules either. Let it out - don’t keep it in. And most importantly, hug & kiss Stu - he needs it, too.
April 30, 2008 at 9:49 pm
W. Lotus
There is nothing to forgive. My thoughts are with you.
May 2, 2008 at 2:32 am
Mya
xo
May 2, 2008 at 4:57 am
Colleen
I hold my baby girl tighter now, I don’t get frustrated when she cries, I love her more every second of every day. I realize how lucky I am to have her. To feel her warm baby breath on my neck and to smell her sweet baby smell. Because of you and your beautiful baby girl, and the pain that you have shared with countless strangers, I am a better mom. For that, I will be eternally grateful. I wish you continued healing and strength as you sort your way through what I can only imagine is a field of grief.
May 3, 2008 at 4:52 pm
Annie
I found this link from Kate at SweetSalty and thought if might be something helpful for you. http://www.glowinthewoods.com/home/
Take care, Ann
May 3, 2008 at 8:30 pm
tinafrench
You wouldn’t be human if you weren’t angry. No emotion is wrong. Nothing you feel is wrong. Nothing about this is fair or right.
Just get through the days. However you feel, whatever it takes. Right now that’s your only job.
May 3, 2008 at 10:48 pm
sweetsalty kate
Jen, you are living in my world, and I’m so sorry for that. I had one of those days yesterday: I felt positively violent. I’ve never felt that way before, and I wished in that moment that I could break a window or punch someone. Someone in particular (we all have a few of those).
As passed on to you by Ann you’re also welcomed with open arms at Glow in the Woods. We do what we can to at least stand together in this blackest of black spaces. I know I’m better for it.
Whenever you feel you’re ready, we’re there for you.
May 3, 2008 at 11:30 pm
Bon
Jenny,
you wrote this three years to the day from the birth of my firstborn…he lived just one night. and still…though it fades, for all the emptiness that promise is worth…when i read what you wrote about the uselessness, the “i should be taking care of her now” i felt again that visceral, gargantuan rage and helplessness like it was yesterday.
i am so very sorry. it is so very wrong that Sadie isn’t here.
i drank and smoked my way through that first summer, the only way i could find of channeling the destructiveness that threatened to overwhelm me completely. just keep breathing.
May 6, 2008 at 8:32 pm
Kaye
whatever your good news is…i’m glad there is a ray of light