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Friday
Nov282008
Too sad to be
November 28, 2008
Many beautiful things have happened, things that I haven't written about because I haven't had time. I'm still waiting to get my at-home internet back. But really, there are beautiful things every day. YaYa tells Uncle Matty that I am the most beautiful girl in the world. Solo kicks and kicks, a little kicking machine. Kid A reads to his brother and sister for an hour while I try to get the baby to sleep. My husband and brother joke around as easily as if they were born as brothers.
And then there are things that seem too sad to be.
It's not my story. I'll just share a little because it seems to be occupying a lot of the space that I have inside me, these last few days.
The last thing she told us was that she was going off to eat a curry, to see whether she could get her labor jump-started. She was laughing. Just the day before, we had talked about doing portraits of her and her baby when he was born. A couple of days before that, her husband pushed my stroller kindly through the deep sand, the part that I always have trouble getting through. We walked along in the early evening, and she held Solo's hand while he began to fuss. She wanted her baby more than anything in the world.
I was afraid, when Renee came into the house the morning after I had been away for a day and told me something bad had happened. I was afraid that something had happened to the baby.
Nothing in my mind told me that a woman could still die in childbirth. That she could have her baby just fine, but then bleed to death afterward. In so many ways it seems that it was preventable. I have so many questions, so much anger. I am hurting for her husband, for her tiny son, for her mother. It's impossible.
It is so heavy. Maybe if we were there? I think. We would have carried her away to the hospital. We wouldn't have waited for the ambulance. We would have flown with wings, we would have stopped the rush, we would have saved her.
I should have known something was going to happen. The thoughts lead me into trails out and down and down and down.
But who were we? Only new friends, in the neighborhood, sharing an experience, walking to the beach, planning to get together soon.
It was preventable. I am angry. It is not my story. I saw her son today, tiny and perfect with no breasts to turn his rooting mouth towards. Solo looked like a giant, when I got home. I looked in the mirror and there I was. The mother of my children. Still here, despite terrorists in Mumbai, despite the train ticket that I still have, the one we didn't use, which would have taken us there just one day before the attacks started. Still here, and not quite deserving.
I am so sorry.
And then there are things that seem too sad to be.
It's not my story. I'll just share a little because it seems to be occupying a lot of the space that I have inside me, these last few days.
The last thing she told us was that she was going off to eat a curry, to see whether she could get her labor jump-started. She was laughing. Just the day before, we had talked about doing portraits of her and her baby when he was born. A couple of days before that, her husband pushed my stroller kindly through the deep sand, the part that I always have trouble getting through. We walked along in the early evening, and she held Solo's hand while he began to fuss. She wanted her baby more than anything in the world.
I was afraid, when Renee came into the house the morning after I had been away for a day and told me something bad had happened. I was afraid that something had happened to the baby.
Nothing in my mind told me that a woman could still die in childbirth. That she could have her baby just fine, but then bleed to death afterward. In so many ways it seems that it was preventable. I have so many questions, so much anger. I am hurting for her husband, for her tiny son, for her mother. It's impossible.
It is so heavy. Maybe if we were there? I think. We would have carried her away to the hospital. We wouldn't have waited for the ambulance. We would have flown with wings, we would have stopped the rush, we would have saved her.
I should have known something was going to happen. The thoughts lead me into trails out and down and down and down.
But who were we? Only new friends, in the neighborhood, sharing an experience, walking to the beach, planning to get together soon.
It was preventable. I am angry. It is not my story. I saw her son today, tiny and perfect with no breasts to turn his rooting mouth towards. Solo looked like a giant, when I got home. I looked in the mirror and there I was. The mother of my children. Still here, despite terrorists in Mumbai, despite the train ticket that I still have, the one we didn't use, which would have taken us there just one day before the attacks started. Still here, and not quite deserving.
I am so sorry.
Reader Comments (27)
i share your sadness, and sorrow, it is hard to understand god's will,it is hard to understand man's violence, and the pain of departing this plain while life comes forth. It is hard to put into words what kind of sorrow this brings, it is even harder to understand the lord's causless mercy when these most devestating moments in life pass through us and cast darkness. Now is your opportunity to love that child, love your children, and reach out how ever you can, i will kiss my little ones tonight a little more and praise the dawn of a new day a little more, not understanding fully , but humbly weeping inside too, my prayers are with the family and the new child, and all those who have been affected by this great tragedy, i am glad to hear you are safe, even though feeling undeserving, i thought of you and your family yesterday, and even dreamt before finding out of the terrrorism that you all showed up at my door needing a place to rest, strange that after all these years I havn't seen you i would dream of you, and then learn of what struck,
much love to all of you from victoria canada
hare krishna
So much Grace. Perhaps it is further mercy which shields us from knowing the total, since we are all so undeserving. Grieve, and love, and LIVE... that is the eventual way forward, and up.
Your mourning is heard amid the redwoods. mark
When we heard the news about Mubai we were relieved it wasn't your town. I'm so grateful you didn't take that train. I'm sorry to hear about your friend. You will be a great comfort to her family and they're blessed to have you there.
How life shifts so suddenly. And it is unbelievable, that which seems so preventable, that which should be safe.
All I would take from you, deny you, is that sentence where you deem yourself undeserving. To that, I say 'no.' You show the power of your heart here. You reveal 'deserving.'
remember in your grieving that He bore our sorrows.
He will one day wipe away every tear. His great mercy is for the undeserving. His words are come to me you who are heavy burdened. i know you will be a blessing there because of your heart of compassion. we are so thankful for your safety.
Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy. Lord, have mercy. I can't fathom the sadness. May you be given grace to share with this grieving daddy and sweet baby. Love to you, and them. Beca
would you be able to provide milk?
I cry and I am sure our Father cries too.
I am so sorry. What sadness ~ Praying for you.
There is nothing in the world that can make that make sense.
I can feel the sorrow of it - all the way over here.
Rae,
Maybe God brought you to your new friends in order to be there for them now. I am so sorry for your horrible loss. It is unfathomable. I send prayers to you and your family.
oh so sad. i am so sorry for this loss in your new community, for the loss the mama's family must endure. might it be possible for you to pump some milk to share with the new baby? i know that you have so much on your plate as it is, but just an idea. . . stay safe. we are all very worried about what is happening in mumbai.
okay wait.
where are you. i imagine everyone safely on this continent in our over privileged existences.
where the hell are you?
and agin. the universe does one of her dipsticks and does something so cruel and un-understandable.What a very sad time for that family.
So sorry, so sorry. Dear little one and his poor aching father. Loving, loving thoughts from far across the world.
Thinking of you and the whole community.
I don't know what to say. But my heart is suddenly there with you and grieving with you over such senseless tragedy.
And I am grateful you, my friend, are safe.
I have been thinking about you these last few days, hoping you are not too afraid in the terror there. I had no idea of your other tragedy. I am sorry. I am relieved you know the Jesus prayer so well. At times it is the only comfort. Prayers and blessings for all those suffering and mourning.
So sad...holding back tears in the coffee shop. I am praising God for his protection for you...praying the tiny baby and his family.
I'm so sorry.
What a burden for that poor sweet baby and his dad...may they emerge from the darkness together.
I had a homebirth with my first baby...and survived only by God's grace...things are not what they seem in the third world...we think the infrastructure is there, but when you poke a little it just crumbles like dust...you've experienced that too now...knowing that you can't rely on a medical system...that all you have are your prayers and God's decree.
Nora in Morocco.
I'm so sorry!
Hugs
Mary
I am praying for all of you who are grieving. I don't have the words to express my sadness for everyone involved so I will just pray to the Father who holds us all.
Hey Sister,
Mmmm...you guys have been on my heart and in my prayers lately...I'm waiting for a window of space to ring you and have a chat.
This is such a sad thing you've written about. So sad.
Love you,
Leaf
oh dear. i'm so sorry. and that little babe, now a motherless child. this really hits home for me. me, a homebirthing momma who bled out on the living room floor. it's a matter of minutes. it's so fast when life can be given and taken away. i know it means little if nothing, but know that she was there, present, watching, even if from her view on the ceiling looking down, she knew he would be in good hands, she knew he would be taken care of. i know this to be true. it has to be. it's the only thing that brings me comfort when i think back to how life plays out.
i'm sending love, deep momma love, across the world to that little babe. to you and yours as well.
xo.
meredith
*tears*