Been a While and I'm Sorry 'Bout That

But first we had our Christmas party to get ready for and then I got my period.

I know, I know, why should menstruation keep me from blogging. Well, it signaled the close of the first cycle after we lost the baby. I wanted to write about it; I just couldn't find the words. I may yet. Oops, I guess I just did. I do have other things to blog about but the time just gets away from me. Sorry!

Cycles

The bleeding starts
lightly,
thinly.

My body
returns to its normal
rhythm,
cycling with the moon,
the tides.

My mind is also
slowly
returning to its normal
rhythm,
the beat of my heart
being the only
heartbeat therein.

We will,
soon enough,
start searching again,
searching each other
for the soul that will
join us
eventually,
inviting it to
take up a
temporary residence
in my body,
and a permanent
one in our lives.

I am
heartened,
hopeful,
wistful
as my body
prepares a new palette
for the Creator
of Light
to use.

3 Weeks and Counting - Thanks

for all your support over the last 3 weeks. Being able to express some of the myriad emotions running rampant in my head helped me a lot through these weeks and knowing I had friends to read the poems helped a lot too. There is a lot more to be said but I know I've healed some because the ideas aren't assaulting me at every turn and I am now able to think about the situation without becoming Niobe.

I would be interested to know if you particularly liked or disliked any of the poems and what your overall feeling about them was. I'd also be interested to know whether you think these might help other women going through the same thing. I have an idea but I'm not sure yet if it's a worthwhile one. So, please don't be afraid to tell me you didn't like them or found them banal or something; I'm just curious and will still love you all, I promise! If you don't want to leave comments publicly - you can reach me at peppypilotgirl (at) hotmail.com or any one of my other email addresses.

I really appreciate your continued help.

I will probably be writing about this (and other things) for a while as, among all the grieving, I seem to have remembered that I *like* to write poetry. (Lucky you... not.)

21 Day Challenge | Day 21 | Inseparable / Three Weeks

21. Inseparable

We were the best of friends,
inseparable in
fun, laughter.

I don’t know
when
the drift
began.

It became complete
when her
response to the death
of my child
was a fifth of
vodka
and a stack of
stupid comedies.

Funny how death
separates the inseparable.


22. Three Weeks

Three weeks
have passed.

Three weeks in which I have
eaten (too much), slept (not well),
bathed, run errands, worked, and
watched my daughter.

Three weeks which have seemed
as long as
three years
but which have served
to dull the
pain
somewhat.

Three weeks in which I have
stayed as busy as humanly
possible.

Because to slow down
enough to think
would mean
to feel and
to feel has been
too painful
for words.

I believe
that it is
time
to slow down.

21 Day Challenge | Day 20 | Hope was Born Today

20. Hope was Born Today

A baby was born today.
A baby whose parents lost their
firstborn, stillborn.
A baby who will never know her
older brother.

Hope was born today.

21 Day Challenge | Day 19 | Who Will Care for Her

19. Who Will Care for Her / The Ortiz Stabbings

Her picture is wild-eyed,
frantic.
She stabbed her babies,
three of them,
multiple times.

And called her
boyfriend’s mother
to say,
“the children are dead.”

The tears form a
torrent
down my face.

How can she not realize how
much beyond value,
how
sacred,
each of those fragile
bodies
is?

How can she
erase
those tiny
souls?

The children
will
live
and their
grandmother
will care for
them.

I am
lucky.
Though my pain
will not
vanish
altogether,
I will live
and people
will care for
me.

But who will care for
this girl,
when she
realizes
what she has
lost?


Courant Article re: Ortiz Custody Hearing

21 Day Challenge | Day 18 | All the Right Things

18. All the Right Things

A card came
in the mail.

It did not say “I’m sorry.”
It did not say “you can try again.”
It did not say “at least you have your daughter.”

It said,
“the loss is more painful than
anything.”
It said,
“I know.”
It said,
“I want to cry when my son
wishes he had a brother.”
It said,
“He does.”

It said all the right things.
And I am thankful.

21 Day Challenge | Day 17 | If I Were To Look Into His Mind

17. If I Were To Look Into His Mind

He says he’s
fine.

Ok.

Well, sad,
of course.

But ok.

His face is carefully
blank.

I do not
know
if he is
or is not
as
he says.

I wonder what I would
see
if I were to look into his
mind.

21 Day Challenge | Day 16 | Creation

16. Creation

The urge to create is
inexorable, unyielding.

Jewelry, afghans, cookies.
Dinner, ornaments, clothing.

An insatiable craving to bring
something from
nothing.

Art, quilts, poems, notecards.
Curtains, pillows, bookmarks.

Anything
to prove
that this person,
this broken person,
can bring something
into the world.