The day we found out I had been wearing my favorite shirt. It was grey and had a flower on the belly.
The doctor we saw reminded us of Yoda. It was hilarious the first time we saw him.
I started keeping a list the day of things I didn’t know I could do.
1: Keep breathing when my child was going to die
2: Tell my children their baby sister would die.
3: Decide if we should bury or cremate our child.
4: Be calm make plans and die inside at the same time.
We told the kids outside by the pond.
I wore my favorite black t-shirt to the doctor Wednesday when we scheduled my c-section. I threw it away later that day.
I had subway the night before for dinner. (I tried to eat there the other night, all I could think was last time she was alive, my food is still in the fridge)
I wore a green shirt that day.
The morning she was born it was raining.
We finished at my doctor’s office and waited at the front for them to call the hospital.
There were so many babies and bellies.
I started crying hysterically, it wasn’t fair, it wasn’t fair. Sob sob sob Oh my god I SOUND LIKE A FUCKING MONKEY, (sorry to the parents whose child now screams out fuck because of me)
We get to the women’s pavilion, the car parked next to us has a car seat waiting on their healthy baby in the backseat.
I’d been here just four weeks before, stopping labor.
We go up the back elevators.
It takes 3 tries to start my iv.
I hated the nicu supervisor. He was rude he was cold and he told me that yes my baby probably will suffer and visibly struggle.
My doctors and nurse promised that wouldn’t be the case, he just has no bedside manner.
I refuse to let him be the one to pronounce her.
She never opened her eyes.
She never cried.
She had a deep line in her chin.
I was so worried about her being cold. She couldn’t be cold.
She was pronounced after 2 hours, I knew she was gone long before but couldn’t let it be official.
I hate the word died.
I smiled most of the time we had her. But cried when I read her the Sleep Book.
She had one normal foot and one rocker foot.
Her feet seemed to be huge compared to the rest of her.
She had linebacker shoulders.
Her fingers were long.
Eric gave her a bath.
I never saw her little baby booty.
I wrapped her up in her rainbow blanket and put her hat on her.
I kissed her goodbye and gave her to Eric. He told her goodbye and I took her back I wasn’t ready yet.
I kissed her and sniffed her baby smell.
Then we handed her back.
That was it. She was gone. I’ll never see her here again.
The funeral home came in the middle of the night.
Her ashes came home on her two-week birthday.
She sits on a shelf beside my bed.
Photos and ashes that is all that is left.