On Sharing

We're built differently. She has a smaller frame, slender fingers and feet. Her eyes blue, her skin darker and unblemished by freckles. Unlike me, with my thin net of freckles over skin so pale that in the winter it's nearly transluscent. My feet have always been bigger; all of me has. Broader shoulders, rounder knuckles and knees, breasts.

Of course, none of this ever deterred me from raiding her closet. I'd do it and return shirts to their hangers, clean, but stretched so much that when she'd wear them, they'd hang loose over her narrow frame. She hated that.

Today, we share everything. It's a habit we've nurtured over the past decade. We share clothing, couches, food, burdens, experiences, everything. And today, even this; the one thing I wanted to keep for myself.

But now it's on her, draped and heavy over her shoulders and I can't take it off. Can't make it only mine again. And I finally understand, there are some things sisters shouldn't have to share.

Closure

It occurred to me as we wound through twilight-lit roads last evening. It came, not as a terrible thought, or even as a sad one - only as a simple hmm amongst a myriad of other thoughts to share with my husband on a rare toddler-less drive.

It was: I would've been holding our second baby right now, had we not experienced our first loss (my due date had been May 2nd)

The thought wound its way through me and out into the air between us. We paused for a moment of reflection before letting it dissolve between us, spoken and vanished in the course of a three minute conversation; neither of us any sadder or different than before it was uttered.

It wasn't simply a thought though, or a fact, or a reason to stop and ponder the what-if's of our lives.

It was closure.

Past Due

There's a bill on the table. It's the second notice. The first notice arrived just days before Christmas and was swiftly swept beneath a stack of Things to Do After The Boss's Birthday.

Looking at it now, it's only a thin folded piece of white paper declaring the bold words: Past Due. Harmless enough. Until I unfold it and read the charges. Then it becomes something so cruel. A harsh demand. An mean reminder. Pay us for what we did for you. Give us what little money you have to cover what insurance didn't.

Logically, I know that it's not a lot of money. Our insurance is, thankfully, quite good.

It's just that no matter of money seems a fair price to pay for the procedure that cleaned my womb and broke my heart.

The Show

Black box theater. Sold out and shoulder-rubbing room only. We were lucky enough to find three seats together and even more so, in the second row.

Before the show begins, I let myself a moment to indulge in the gloom of it all. Black-brick. Black stage. Black floor and seats. I settle on the black curtains that hang before us and I realize that I don't even need to close my eyes to see what only ever haunts me in the final moments between dream and wake.

I blink. Breath. Make myself listen to the scattered murmurings of the audience surrounding me. Within moments the stage is just a stage. The curtains, only black.

I see the memory of my former self, sitting just one seat forward, hardly more than a year ago. Rounded and uncomfortable - with life pushing and turning inside me as the concert rose to crescendo. I let myself remember what it was to rest my palms on my drum tight stomach and how my lips curved with each sharp, sliding movement that rolled through me. My own private concert.

The lights dim until we are swallowed in black. Tonight, I am without my concert. We're here to see nine one-act's, one of which stars my aunt the Dancer -a natural to the stage. Ever graceful. Ever confident. We are witness to her acting debut, at fifty.

She's smooth. A success. And, she comes to say hello during intermission. So, what's new? The three of us shrug and joke, what isn't new? It's been months since we've seen her. Her elegant arm reaches to my knee, Well, you're pregnant.

Silence. I look to my mother. Nothing. My sister. Nothing. I was... I finally muster. Dancer-turned-Actress turns red, even in the dark. Her long fingers cover her lips, muffling the rain of sorry, so sorry, I'm so... Stumbling like she's onstage and forgotten her line. She keeps going, bumbling, I must be thinking of someone else...someone who just told me they were pregnant...I must...

I smile politely. Breath. And look at my nails. Breath. The cuticles are a mess. Breath. Straighten wedding band. Do not cry.

Finally, the conversation is dragged elsewhere, but I've stopped listening and eventually she slips away. Breath. The lights fade. Breath.

And the show goes on.

Post-Turkey Updates & Fodder for Procrastination

I've been doing quite well. Surprisingly well. Proud-of-how-put-together-I-am type well for the past week and a half, given the circumstances. No tears since that night with Uma.

I've faced the barrage of concerned looks and careful questions about how I'm doing, with smiles and nods - so much so that I've felt as though I'm comforting the person I'm speaking with more than they're trying to comfort me.

It was all happy feasting at my in-laws for Thanksgiving. After managing to weave my way, dry eyed, through a long and drawn out conversation with Sil about the ultrasound and the procedure and the recovery, I thought I was through - smooth-sailing from here 'till Christmas.

Until later, after two unwise helpings of tiramisu, I was snuggled in bed with my husband, happily slipping into a food coma. And there appeared the black screen - with my little baby...the x's marking the top of his head and the little bump of his rump. For a brief moment, I was smiling; forgetting, I suppose, in my sleep-altered state. But it only lasted a moment before I turned and shook my husband awake. I pulled him come close and told him to whisper happy things for me to think about. We managed to avoid tears; but I was shaken for the first time in a week.

And now in the post holiday haze, I've been lazing about, letting the feast(s) of the past week settle and clicking the Next button on the top right corner of most Blogger pages. Quite interesting finds out there, if you truly search.

The majority of are sheer dribble or advertisements for one thing or another - but there gems worth taking a moment or two to read and bookmark. And then eventually, you'll come across an interesting page with a plethora of links, as I did, and start clinking your way to sites with slightly more potential (if only because someone else has deemed them link-worthy)

This is precisely how I came across the Face Recognition Generator, which gave my husband and I quite a laugh tonight, and I know that it certainly can be classified as fodder for procrastination for any of my office-bound friends.

You upload a picture of yourself (or anyone else you happen to have kicking around on your computer) and the site generates a list of celebrity's who's faces best match your picture. The results for my first picture were somewhat flattering (although, hardly accurate...with few exceptions):

Deborah Kerr 76%
Christina Ricci 69%
Sandra Bullock 69%
Young Shirley MacLaine 68%
Angelina Jolie 68% (Hardly!)
Winona Ryder 68%
Alyson Hannigan 67%
Natalie Portman 67%
Vivian Leigh 67%
Margaret Atwood 65%

When I put in the only recent picture I have of my husband and I together- the results were quite humorous - especially for him. I'll admit that the picture itself catches us bedraggled at best, but still, I'm not sure he deserves to be compared to a wild-browed/bushy faced Fidel Castro - or an elderly Mother Theresa. You can decide for yourself here.

The site takes a couple moments to load the picture and rescan our faces - but clicking through the results is humorous - probably even more so if you go ahead and try it with your own mugshot.

My apologies in advance if you find yourself wasting a minute or two (or twenty) playing around at the site.

Leave it to Uma

Yesterday was the procedure; and I made it through the entire process without crying. Not that I wasn't sad, it's just that this is something I can't change, I can only accept. So, I took deep breaths and thought of the boss at home waiting for me.

I smiled and assured the nurse that it was ok that she had trouble with my veins and had to stick both arms with the IV needle. I politely laughed at the odd humor of the google-eyed man who came to have me sign a waiver before giving me my anesthetic. I woozily thanked the woman who wheeled me back from the operating room and I even gratefully thanked the nurse who unhooked my IV and explained to me that I'm O positive, and I should remember that.

Breath deeply. Think of happier things. Napping beside my son. The warmth of my husband's hand softly holding mine. Quiet moments of blue-gray light falling through the window early on Christmas mornings. Spring afternoons, lying beneath an arch of apple blossoms. My back pressed against a warm wooden dock; my legs dangling, toes dipping in cool water. Exhale.

Yes, I made it through the entire day without crying. Until late last night, laying on the couch, watching Kill Bill Volume II with my head resting on my husbands lap. Leave it to me to make it through an entire emotional day - dry eyed, only to be sobbing and reaching for the tissues while watching Uma Thurman kick butt.

Because I can't...

Because I can't bring myself to wrap this up into a neat and eloquent post, I won't. Not yet. Instead, here are excerpts from emails between a close friend and I, sent over the past two days:

Monday - Nov 14 - 9:08 AM
From: Mella
To: M

...I'm going for my ultrasound today...Yay! Too early for the gender, but at least I'll get to see a little baby in there with a beating heart (hopefully!)...

Monday - Nov 14 - 12:03 PM
From: M
To: Mella

ooo! Good luck! Send a picture of the little one if you can! =)

Monday - Nov 14 - 5:01PM
From: Mella
To: M

Hi M...

We did get to see our little one - peacefully lying still, eyes closed, legs crossed, little arms and all. But no heartbeat. It was the worst experience of my life - seeing a little baby, just like how Alex looked at his first ultrasound - but being told that he's no longer alive.

Vinnie and I just started sobbing and hugging, right there in front of the technician. I felt almost worse for him - as we were looking at the baby, I could tell something was wrong, so I turned to Vinnie with a concerned look, but he just had a grin on his face and was staring at the little guy as though all was well. He was shocked...

There's no rhyme or reason for why something like this would happen at 10 weeks along - at 5 weeks (as I was with the first one) - it's probably a case of the embryo not properly implanting in the uterus...but at this point - it's hard to say why the heart stopped beating. My mom says that there's no answers...she said that some people theorize that viral infections can have devastating impacts on fetus's...and I did recently have a pretty bad virus. And that would explain why I still feel pregnant...if we only lost him a few days ago, the hormones haven't gone down enough to make me feel normal again.

So...we're just waiting for a call from the doctor to let us know when the operating room is open so that he can perform a D & C to clean out my uterus, since my body hasn't started cramping or spotting yet - and since the fetus is already so far along, I would probably need a D & C even if I passed most of it on my own.

I don't have the emotional energy to email the girls yet...probably in a couple of days after I have the procedure...but I wanted to let you know how things went.

Monday - Nov 14 - 10:52 PM
From: M
To: Mella

Oh Mella, I am so sorry. I don't even know what to say. I'm just sitting here crying. I can't understand it. I just can't believe it. I don't know what to say but I'm sorry. I'll be praying for you both- this was supposed to be such a happy day... If there is anything I can do, or if you just want to talk, I'm here. I love you so much.

Tuesday - Nov 15 - 8:36 AM
From: Mella
To: M

Oh, M...it's just terrible. I think I'm going through all of the stages of grief, rapid pace. I dreamt about losing the baby last night - that I miscarried it on my own, and it was awful. I tossed and turned all night and finally just gave up around 5:30 - but that was almost worse, because I was lying quietly just thinking about it. I wish I'd had some sort of warning - cramps, spotting, a gut feeling - anything...but this just came out of nowhere. The bloodwork was good, my size was good, I'm still feeling pregnant - and the little baby in there *looked* ok, he just looked like he was snoozing...until the technician fell completely silent.

It started out so well - she commented on my flat stomach and smiled while squirting on that cold jelly stuff - then she happily said "Oh! There he is!" when she put the sonogram thing on my abdomen, and we zoomed in on the little one - but within a few seconds, she fell completely silent. And I was worried almost instantly, because I didn't see the flickering light in his chest.

I keep picturing her taking the measurements from his little rump to his head, still trying to date the pregnancy, not entirely positive if she was seeing what she feared she was seeing...but when she asked "and you've had no cramps or spotting?" I knew what was coming. That's when I looked at Vinnie - but, M, he had the sweetest little smile on his face, just like he did when we saw our son for the first time - like love at first sight...he just squeezed my hand and said "baby!"

And then she said "I hate to tell you what I'm seeing..."

I'm sorry, M...I just can't stop replaying it in my mind. Whenever I close my eyes, I see the little body lying there, and I just can't believe that it's real. So, then, I turn to denial and I think "Well, maybe they just missed something...maybe he was so still because he was sleeping and maybe we just couldn't see, or the doppler couldn't hear the heartbeat...and I want to have them check one last time before "cleaning me out"...

But I know that it's unlikely, and that all that they'd be doing is billing me for an unnecessary ultrasound to confirm an already confirmed diagnosis - that I'm carrying an unviable pregnancy.

I'm taking the upcoming semester off - losing two babies so close together is a lot to process - I need a breather.

And on that note...I'm going to go hug my son...he's the only thing that can take my mind off of things. He actually had me giggling this morning...I can't thank God enough for giving me him first...I can't imagine what it would be like to have these two sad pregnancies without having a sweet baby to go home to.


...And that's all I've been able to write...

On Losing

I lose everything. Keys. Glasses. Money. Even important things like wedding bands and credit cards. I never worry that I'll find them though, because they always turn up. They'll show up in the most obvious of places almost like magic or divine intervention. As though they'd been playing tricks on me all along.

This is a strange feeling though, losing life. To see red and know that life is slipping from you and there's nothing you can do to stop it; it's surreal. If I'd never seen those two pink lines, this would just be another bloody day in of a lifetime of cycles that come and go. Some heavier, some harder. Some painful.

But this is different, knowing that this is life leaving you.

Cry with your husband. Hug your mother. Watch your baby sleep and thank God for all of the blessings He has given you. Even the ones that hurt.

Then write something. And breathe deeply. Acknowledge the loss...and move forward. There's nothing else to do.