in order to fully experience the depths of hell  you have to first be lifted high up into heaven.  you need to get a good long taste of bliss,  get it deep enough in your system that it becomes part of you.  maybe it even comes to life inside you.  you need to get familiar with it… get used to it… learn to love it with all your heart and soul.

the trip to hell begins not with a fall but a gradual ascent.  like a comfortable plane ride.  first class seats, even.  you’ve earned the trip to wherever it is you think you’re going, but hell comes when the plane doesn’t make it.  you get your hopes way up, you make happy plans,  you believe strongly enough in something that you plant your soul in it… and then the crash happens.

hell is the crash itself, and the suffering you endure after the crash.  the crippling debilitating pain.  everybody tells you to move on,  and of course you want to move on,  but you can’t move at all.  your moving parts have been crushed.  you’re clearly being punished but you have no idea what you did wrong.

it was supposed to just be a quick trip to the doctor’s office. i had plans to go see a movie afterward with a new friend.  it’s been a while since i made a new friend, and i was looking very much forward to it.  but something had been bugging me and i needed to be told i was wrong.  so many things about pregnancy had spooked me into needless paranoia, and i needed to be told that this was another of those things.

he had been making himself known lately, thumping and dancing around in there as he grew. even husband was starting to feel him. we saw him wiggling and kicking around on an ultrasound screen.  we saw his face and fell in love.  “it’s a boy” we were told.  we had a son.  we talked about him, laughed about him. we beamed at each other with pride over him.  we made plans for him.  he was real, and we loved him.  after all the surgeries and doubt and trying and trying…  after all the doctors and treatments and waiting and waiting… after all the migraines and sickness and anxiety and discomfort,  after being told that pregnancy was something i would never be able to achieve at all… there was a new little person i had created dancing around in my womb.  an amazing, miraculous reward for all we had been through just to find this little creature.   and he really liked to dance.

so when he didn’t do it as much, i got worried.  i was told not to worry,  that i was at a stage where he had shifted position and i just couldn’t feel his little feet anymore.  i googled and read and asked around, and everybody- including my nurse- told me not to worry like they had so many times before.   “it’s normal” , “everything’s fine”, “stop worrying so much”… but that eerie lack of dancing was starting to make me cry myself to sleep at night.

still, it was supposed to just be a quick trip to the doctor’s office. they’d put the microphone thingy on my belly,  i’d hear the beautiful sound of my son’s heartbeat and be able to breathe a sigh of relief and go about my day… and my life.  the nurse would quietly judge me for wasting everybody’s time and i’d go see a movie and eat some nachos.

two nurses and a two doctors used three different machines to try to find that heartbeat.

*sigh*  “I’m so sorry….”

and with that the plane crashed… taking my heart and soul down with it.

everything that has followed has been torture.  i was immediately checked into a hospital and stuck full of tubes and needles, including one in my spine.  i had to “deliver”… so i was sent to the labor and delivery ward with everyone else, where i could hear through the walls the sounds of new lives beginning and proud papas being congratulated in the hallways.  i was paralyzed from the waist down. immobilized in my torture chamber listening to happy birthdays all around me while i writhed in discomfort and fear with a belly full of death.  Hell.

you know what was surprising? hell isn’t a dark place.  it’s very clean and brightly lit so you can see everything that’s happening to you.  a big flourescent spotlight made sure i didn’t miss the sight of my tiny dead son being moved away from my body.  i only caught a glimpse before the absolute horror of the sight blinded me with heartbreak and pain more intense than i ever thought was possible.  Hell.  i screamed like i’ve never heard anyone scream.   i cried and convulsed and wailed , overcome with helpless hysteria.  i wanted out of there.  i wanted to kick the doctor away.  i wanted to run and run… but i was immobile.  my legs were too heavy to move due to the tube they had fed into my spine.  Hell.  deeper and deeper into Hell.

i’ve been home from the hospital for a few days now, and every cell in my body strives to remind me of What Is Missing.  painfully, physically, and with every fiber and cell of my being,  I Want My Baby.  the need breaks me down on a regular basis and i find myself involuntarily screaming those words while choking on sobs that i had no idea were coming.  exhaustion is the only thing that brings relief from the crying.  i weep inconsolably until i’m out of gas until the next storm comes…. Hell.

that is where i am.  people tell me how brave i am, but i don’t buy it.  i am pure chickenshit right now:  a blubbering trainwreck mess with no recollection of ever being strong or brave… or anywhere but Hell.

i keep hearing that “it’s going to be okay…” but what is “going to be” doesn’t feel like it matter much when your soul is on fire right now.


15 Comments (+add yours?)

  1. Katie
    Dec 19, 2011 @ 12:41:48

    There are no words to express how deeply sorry I am for your loss. No one deserves anything like this, especially you. Take care of yourself and grieve as long and as hard as you need to.


  2. JDragonfly
    Dec 19, 2011 @ 12:51:33

    MG, I am so sorry. I have been thinking of you often, and even though I don’t know you IRL feel bonded with you through your blog. I’m brokenhearted about your loss, and will be praying for you and your family as you grieve. All my love, J


  3. mrs. brightside
    Dec 19, 2011 @ 22:52:04

    My heart is breaking for you and the hell you are in. In that pain, know that you have written a beautiful post that brought me to tears. I’d be shocked if you were anything but an hysterical mess right now, don’t waste a second of energy worrying about that. I’m just so sorry, I wish anything that this wasn’t real.


  4. Misfit Mrs.
    Dec 20, 2011 @ 00:10:06

    This is a nightmare that no one could ever deserve. My heart is broken for you completely. There are simply no words to say how awful this is. My thoughts are with you are you navigate what is ahead. I’m just so, so sorry.


  5. missohkay
    Dec 20, 2011 @ 09:00:25

    Here via Mrs. Brightside and I’m so incredibly sorry. It’s profoundly unfair and I wish you didn’t have to know this hell.


  6. manymanymoons
    Dec 20, 2011 @ 09:07:40

    I am here via Mrs. Brightside to offer all the support I have. I am just so sorry for what you’re going through. There is truly nothing to say but I’m sorry.


  7. Pundelina
    Dec 20, 2011 @ 11:10:46

    I wish I wasn’t here saying this and that you weren’t reading it and that everything was not Hell in your world.

    I’m so very very sorry for the loss of your son.



  8. rsdl921
    Dec 20, 2011 @ 13:24:45

    Here from Mrs. Brightside. The words aren’t enough but I’m so very sorry of your boy. Please know I’m praying for you and wishing your strength to deal with the days of Hell ahead.


  9. Detour
    Dec 20, 2011 @ 16:55:36

    I can’t describe how sorry I am. My heart is breaking for the loss of your baby boy.


  10. Rachel @ Eggs In A Row
    Dec 20, 2011 @ 17:32:23

    I am so so sorry. I am sending you love and my prayers but I wish there were more I could do. xoxoxo


  11. Shadow of My Former Self
    Dec 20, 2011 @ 23:43:07

    I am also here via Mrs. Brightside. I am so very sorry to hear of the hell you’ve experienced. I am terribly sorry for the loss of your son.


  12. Life of a Doctor's Wife
    Jan 02, 2012 @ 00:24:43

    Here via Lost and Found – I am so very sorry about your heartbreaking loss.


  13. Annie
    Jan 02, 2012 @ 00:41:02

    Here from LFCA. I’m so so sorry for the loss of your son. Your description of hell is so familiar. I clicked over because I saw it was a cord problem that was the cause. I lost my boys to cord problems, too, and it’s so hard when perfect babies die this way.


  14. Anna
    Jan 03, 2012 @ 18:56:08

    Here from LFCA – I’m so sorry for your loss. I lost my baby boy at 22 weeks – a lot of what you’re saying reminds me of how I was feeling. I can say that it does get easier. Not easy and not the same as before but more bearable.


  15. ginger
    Jan 25, 2012 @ 15:05:58

    Oh my god, I just found your blog through your comment on MMM’s blog. I’m so sorry for your loss. I have not experienced anything like this, but remember my mom telling me about having to deliver a stillborn baby around 5 months around 1980, and back then having NO emotional support (since people talked about these things even way less than they do now) and how hard it was to be there, doing that. My thoughts are with you.


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