what I meant to say

The post entitled "it sucks" is an excerpt from an email I sent to a friend a couple of days after the first ultrasound that confirmed what I already knew--that baby Rosie was dead. Rereading it. I see what I left out--my thoughts and feelings and the things I repeated over and over that fateful morning on February 23, 2010. So I will share them with you now in pieces:

No!!!! Not me! Not my baby!

Please baby, stay with me.

Mommy loves you.

I love you and I want you to stay

but if you must go,

I release you.

Que sera, sera

whatever will be will be...

I release you.

I release you.

I love you baby.

If you must go, I will 

let you go.  

But you must know, I love you 

and I want you to stay.  

Stay, stay, stay.

Please stay.

I release you.

I will not hold you back.

I will understand if you must go.

But I will be sad.

*   *   *    *   *

More blood,

bright red blood,

right as my hubby and

daughter pulled out of

the driveway.

All alone with the reality

that my baby really is dead.

I am now one of those people

I read about.

Like so many friends who have lost

babies before me.

Death is not going to spare me.

Something is wrong with me.

That's why my baby died.

What was I exposed to?

Is this because I had pneumonia

in the beginning?

Because I took the antibiotics?

Because I didn't take them soon enough?

Because I took goldenseal and licorice root

and other herbs when I didn't know I 

was pregnant?

Because I didn't eat much when I was sick?

Did I take too much of one vitamin?

Not enough?

Is this because my dad said those mean

things when he found out I was pregnant?

Did his hatred kill my baby?

I always said I wanted two kids.

Is that why this baby died?

Because I didn't say I wanted 3?

Was it because I wondered how

I would take care of 3 children 

when I only have 2 hands?

NO!!! NO!!! NO!!!

(hitting pillow)

Why? Why? Why?

AHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Sobbing, gasping for air,

sinking into my bed

as the world around me

swirls.  The cruel world.

The one that robbed me

of a dream.

Numbness.

This isn't happening.

Maybe I'm just spotting.

Some women bleed in pregnancy and they are just fine.

I will call my doctor and ask her 

what else bleeding could mean.

Oh good, she has some thoughts.

I might be okay.

I'm overreacting. 

I'm being dramatic--like my mom always said when I was little.

I'm going to be okay.

This will not destroy ME.

I will be different.

I will not be crushed.

I am a strong person.

I will not cry,

will not be depressed.

I will not let this ruin me.

I will not fall apart.

I have the power to bleed and not die.

Oh, god, what if I bleed to death?

What if my husband comes home and

finds me in a pool of blood.

Please let me die too.

Who is holding my baby now?

Was there anyone to greet her

as she went into the light?

Who will she recognize?

I will never see my baby.

Will never hold her 

or look into her eyes

or feel her soft skin.

This is so unfair.