Saturday 19 December 2009

Due

19th of December. The day that, last year, Georgina and Jessica should have been born.

When I say sixteen weeks early, it doesn't sound terribly bad. Not an insurmountable problem.

It is snowing here today, on the 19th of December.
When I think back to Jessica's birthday, at the end of August, when we all sitting outside in the garden, sixteen weeks and some odd days sounds like a very long time indeed.
A sickeningly long time.
A time that could suck all the air from my lungs.

Sixteen weeks and three days. I wish I could have held on for longer.

Jessica had her checks yesterday. She did very well. Her consultant was quite curious as to what I have been feeding her. She has had some of the evil biscuits known as party rings (only once I promise) but apart from that I just feed her as often as I think she will eat something! I often feel like I am just hovering about her with a spoon, waiting to stuff something in the moment she opens her mouth. Poor child. She is now the average weight for a baby her age, slightly below average height. She passed all her developmental checks and has been discharged from physiotherapy. The slight weakness noted on one side last time seems to have corrected itself. Her lungs sound good, no wheezes or rattles. Only a little bit of 'caving in' under her ribs on one side.

On the whole she is a surprisingly well little girl. As the consultant said, the outcomes for 23 weekers are variable and, frequently, are not as straightforward as Jessica's. I have always braced myself for something, I couldn't tell you what, but SOMETHING to come squirming out of the woodwork and laugh at me. Saying 'ha, you might have thought everything was fine but it isn't.'

So I finally let out the breath that I have been holding on Jessica's behalf since August last year. I uncrossed my fingers, now stiff and clawed from being crossed. I untied the rabbit foot. I will no longer make the sign against the evil eye. I will no longer do all those pointless things that I did because they were all that I could do to keep my little girl safe.

Then again, maybe I won't. Fingers re-crossing right about . . . . now.

The doctor also mentioned Georgina. She said, it was like what I lost on the one hand, I gained on the other. I've had that thought myself although it is not a concept that makes any sense or one that I particularly like. But I think I know what she was getting at. It would be asking too much for Georgina to be alive and in as good health as Jessica. It simply wouldn't be possible. But that doesn't stop me wanting it. Because I am unreasonable.

I don't feel like I am coping very well lately.
I don't really know why. One of those strange, senseless downwards spirals that hit us all from time to time. Not seemingly triggered by anything in particular.

I feel nauseated. By everything.
And, sadly, this is not because I'm pregnant. Believe me, I have checked approximately five thousand, three hundred and twenty six times. Well, perhaps not quite that often (I'm a little prone to exaggeration) but you get the general idea.

I feel like I am fitting in better at work. I hope I am. But it seems that the only person who can fit back in the space that I left behind is . . . me. The old me. The one that faffed around the office and smiled and said yesthankyouiamfineiamgreathowareyoudoing? yesiwilldothatbymonday surenoproblem hahahaicantbelieveyouvesetupaspreadsheettoseewhoisgettingtheadventcalendarchocolate and laughed about the biscuit barrel being raided by the cleaners and my colleague's obsession with trains and loved to hear the stories of the guy's kids. My immediate colleagues are all men and all of them have young children so I hear lots of cute stories. I used to love hearing them. Now . . not so much. I just want to stick my fingers in my ears and go 'la la la la, not listening, don't care about your families with all their living children.' And these people are nice people, caring people who love their children and are just trying to break up the working day with a little bit of entertainment along the lines of 'kids say the funniest things.'

My immediate neighbour's five year old son asked him recently if people go on forever. He was relating this story and it kind of knocked the breath out of me. I just stared dully at my computer screen, trying not to make it glaringly obvious that I was crying. And L, my wonderful manager, if you gave me that window seat intentionally, for that very purpose, bless you.

The strain of doing all this is making me feel sick. To maintain the illusion of being the old me, I have to pay a price. My guts pay the price. I wake up feeling sick, I walk around feeling sick, I drive feeling sick, I work and click and calculate feeling sick.

As though there is something festering inside me. Something rotten. Something unsightly. A mouldy heart.

An e-mail was circulated on my last day at work with the subject 'cakes.' You know me, I'm a greedy soul and a sucker for cake so I clicked immediately. The cakes had been bought to celebrate a pregnancy. A successful twelve week ultrasound.

I couldn't say congratulations. I couldn't say anything. All I felt was fear. I saw that presence waiting in the corner, twiddling his thumbs. He was waiting in that same corner last year when I shyly presented my first ultrasound pictures. I don't know if this presence is death or misfortune or the fates or what you would call him, her, them or it. But I know that presence.

I left the building. I charged up the staircase in the multi storey car park. I got to my car and I rested my hand on the roof retching. I desperately wanted to throw up but nothing. I got in the car and cried. I felt as though I was in the centre of a crumpled sheet of paper and all the events of the past year were inexorably closing in on me. Life support equipment jostling next to breast pumps, tiny red children marching on feet bound with sats probes and lines, ventilators hissing and alarms beeping. Coming towards me. In a car park. I probably looked like I had gone completely insane.

If you remember All.y Mc.Beal and her dancing baby? Bit like that but not so funny. Not funny at all. Well, funny peculiar maybe. I am pretty damn peculiar from time to time since this happened.

I don't know what is wrong with me. Is it jealousy? Do I ill-wish others because my own pregnancy did not go well? Do I feel that everyone should suffer to get their children? What sort of person have I become? Some sort of twisted freak who can't even bear to see an ultrasound picture? I don't want to be like that. I don't want my first thought to be that the baby might die so you shouldn't be buying congratulatory cakes, not yet.

I've often wanted to ask my friend and my SIL, the other twin (living twins) mums that I know if they hated me, resented me. I fell pregnant with the girls on my first cycle. No fertility problems. No tests. No painful procedures. No disappointment. Just wine and roses. Until it wasn't.

My sweet girls. I loved you so much. I still do. I listened to this song of Nick Drake's when I was pregnant. Especially after 12 weeks it seemed so apt. When I knew I was expecting twins. It seemed so magical.

I never felt magic crazy as this
I never saw moons knew the meaning of the sea
I never held emotion in the palm of my hand

Or felt sweet breezes in the top of a tree
But now you're here
Brighten my northern sky.

There is something so very warm in Nick Drake's voice as he sings that second to last line, 'but now you're here.' It always reminds me of my girls. That moment that they were here. Both of them. When I was pregnant and when they were born, before Georgina died.

My girls. You do brighten my northern sky.

I wish I could hold on to the love I feel for you Georgina but I need to let everything else go.
The bitterness, the resentment, the anger, the endless questioning.
Why it had to be me.
Why it had to be you.
Why it had to be Jessica.
Why it had to be your sweet Daddy.
Why I can't help seeing you when I look at your sister. I can't help seeing you through the static. Shimmering. Glistening. Just on the brink of living. Then snatched away from me. It feels like it was so close. But I suppose it wasn't. Not really. You were always closer to death than life from the moment you were born. Of course you were.

But I wanted you to live so very, very, very much. So much so that my memory distorts the facts. So much that, in my memories, you were in with a chance. A real chance.

I'm so tired. Of all this bile inside me. This bitter, bitter gall.

And I'm editing to say that I know all of this sounds terrifically ungrateful. Maybe I am. I hope not.
I still can't believe that Jessica is doing so well and is so healthy, it didn't seem possible this time last year. I love her so much and when I think of how vulnerable she was, how close she came to death my heart seems to stop in my chest.

But I still love Georgina. I still miss her. I hope you understand.

Not all pregnancy announcements take me this way. I've survived many of them with just about complete equanimity. Nothing different about this one, only my reaction.


Anyway, this one is for you, my precious daughters.

27 comments:

  1. Perhaps I'm missing the point of this post but I want to take a moment to congratulate Jessica on all she has achieved. What great news!

    I feel like year two was more of a chore for me than year one. I don't know if it's because the work of parenting Millie slowed down and I had more time to think about it or if it was the pressure I was putting on myself to move on. Maybe it's when the full weight of 'forever' started to set in.

    I have no advice. Just wanted to let you know that I'm reading and nodding and wishing that you were going crazy right now setting up a double birthday party.

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  2. Catherine, I don't think for one second it's asking too much for Georgina to be alive. And it's certainly not unreasonable. I wish you could've had even half of those sixteen weeks then and both of your girls here with you now. I'm so sorry. Sending love and giant hugs.

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  3. You arent unreasonable at all.

    Not one bit.

    I am so glad that Jess is doing so well. What a blessing. Reading that just brought tears of joy to my eyes.

    I know what you mean about paying a price. I did it for over a year when I went back to work. It took so much to pretend. Sending you lots of warm vibes and love...

    (and many thanks for your beautiful Christmas card... It is by my kitchen table...)

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  4. Milestones seem to be so hard. I so wish your Georgina was here with you. Great news that Jessica did well at her checkup. Sending you lots and lots of HUGS!

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  5. I find it amazing how much energy it takes to go on with life and the whole pulling it off thing makes me sick too. I am sorry that work seems to be so difficult right now.

    It is amazing how time takes on a different meaning after the death of a child.

    Jessica is so very strong and healthy in part because she has a lot of living to do and a lot of joy to experience... for both her and her sister.

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  6. It is so hard to get rid of the bitterness. Even when you think it has gone, dissipated, lessened, it comes back strong and sudden. Here with you through the downward spiral, hoping you will resurface soon.

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  7. Catherine, I love you. Perhaps that's a bit forward, I suppose. I love how you lay it out there and describe in such detail just what grief is -- the thoughts, the physiological consequences, all of it.

    I don't know what it is about pregnancy and infants either. When I first lost E, I was comforted by others' new lives growing within. I looked upon it as hope. Hope that not everything ends horribly. But now. Now I freeze in the presence of anything baby related. Avert my eyes, slink out of the room.

    If you're a freak, I'm right there with you.

    Peace, my friend.

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  8. The doctor also mentioned Georgina. She said, it was like what I lost on the one hand, I gained on the other. I've had that thought myself although it is not a concept that makes any sense or one that I particularly like. But I think I know what she was getting at. It would be asking too much for Georgina to be alive and in as good health as Jessica. It simply wouldn't be possible. But that doesn't stop me wanting it. Because I am unreasonable.
    -----

    this makes me say no. no no noononononoono NO NO NO NO NOOOOO!

    it's NOT unreasonable. NOT AT ALL. they could have both made it. THEY COULD HAVE! they SHOULD have. no baby should have to die anywhere ever.

    'Do I feel that everyone should suffer to get their children? What sort of person have I become?"

    ive felt this.. totally.. that no one deserves a child unless they've lost one. how terrible! but it's that thought that makes me be happy for pregnant women to rainbow babies, and resent all other pregnant women. yikes. i dont know what sort of person you've become, and i'm her too!

    how could i have those two thoughts in the same sentence? that no one really deserves a baby unless they've lost one.... and that no baby should have to die anywhere? how contradictory! what is wrong with me!?

    how about this instead.. no one really *appreciates* a baby unless they've lost one. i mean, im sure people appreciate their babies. but i mean REALLY REALLY appreciate them.

    i will steal a thought from elizabeth mccrakcen.... i know your love for jessica magnifies your love for georgina... and vice versa.

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  9. I also have a really strong reaction to people talking about babies, and oh my goodness do I ever have a reaction to people announcing pregnancies. Congratulations is not the word that comes to my mind. I know it's horrible. I hope that one day it's not that way. I'm sorry it's so hard to be back at work. It's so confusing to be back for me too. It's like, do I pretend to be the person I was a year ago? Or if not, how do I fit in now? ((Hugs))

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  10. Oh Tracy. I think that 'the point' was both.

    Happiness and amazement and gratitude and this bitterness that I can't seem to shake off. As with so many of my posts, it starts off being one thing and then turns into another.

    I'm glad you're here. Thank you. xo

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  11. Catherine... I second everybody else by saying: you are not unreasonable. You are totally and utterly human for feeling the way you do. And I can't bring myself to "congratulate" a pregnancy. I can mutter: "Great, I wish you all the best" or "Cross my fingers" but to really congratulate: nope - these times are over. Recently I heard somebody saying to a preggo: "So this will be your last christmas as a couple - next year you'll be three" and I felt like puking right there and then.

    As for Jessica: OMG, I just realized again how early the girls were born... And even though I wish Georgina could be here with you, I am glad to hear how well Jessica is doing. Such a strong little girl with such a brave mommy.

    xoxo

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  12. With you in the bitterness. Yes even now. I know, I'm terrible.
    Love you lots Catherine, your posts always ring so true with me. As different as our storie are, I still find so many similarities.
    xo

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  13. Catherine, you write from your heart, and reach out to all of us babylost mamas even though all our stories are different.
    Your love for both of your girls is so strong.
    I'm so glad Jessica is doing so well,and I wish Georgina were here doing just as well. x

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  14. I just watched the video you made on Jessica's first birthday. I hadn't understood what you meant before when you said she was red. Wow. It's amazing that she's alive and healthy after being born so very early.

    But that doesn't take away a single drop of the pain caused by Georgina's absense. In many ways, it may intensify your loss. I don't really know what I'm missing out on but you have her twin right there in front of you showing you exactly what Georgina could be like.

    I don't think you need to apologize for your anger, sadness, and bitterness. You have a right to all of those emotions and I believe the only way over them is straight through them. Repressing just makes them come back later in some other form.

    I wish all of this was more helpful to you. Really I just want to give you a hug and some tea. Hang in there.

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  15. I don't know how you would feel you weren't expected to have dual emotions. You had duel experiences.
    Life: Death
    Health:Sickness
    Love: Sadness
    Joy: Bitterness
    There are so many more conflicting realities that you deal with daily. I feel I may can understand a little of what you are going through, as I have a living child and a dead one. I'll always be happy for Ivy's health and accomplishments and sad for the fact that her sister will never have either.
    The bond that twins have though, it really must be hard to know what Jessica will miss out on with her twin gone and what Georgina will never experience.
    I'm here. There are so many here, but inside our minds is truly one of the loneliest places.
    Thinking of you in the car park, reeling and crying makes me so sad. I wish I could have been right around a corner to grab you and hug you and let you cry and tell you that it's ok to feel the way you do.
    You're doing great, as good as possible. I love you.

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  16. Oh hon, it sounds like SUCH tough time. I'm so glad that Jess is doing so well, I'm so sad that Georgina isn't here.

    I think you are an eminently reasonable person, none of the things you describe shock or surprise me. Of course you feel awful, you have been through an incredible trauma - not only with Georgina's death, but the stress of Jessica's first weeks and months, the emotional rollercoaster of having a micropremie in NICU in a hospital miles away from your home.

    What DOES shock me is the way that so many people in your life expect you to be exactly the same as you were before, that don't recognise or acknowledge the events of the past year and 16 weeks, that can't see that you are still in a terrible place and in desperate need of support.

    I wish there were something practical I could do to help - is there anything? I know I've been a bit absent recently because of the shop but I'm just an email or phone call away if you need anything at all my friend. Love to you xxxx

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  17. Just wanting to let you know that I am here. Hurting and aching and bitter along with you. Echoing everyone in saying that you are in NO WAY unreasonable. You just can't look at it any way except this is unfair, this never should have happened, it's horrible.
    I feel as though lately that I am suffocating. And as the winter breathes on here I am losing my breath.
    We're here with you, Catherine. I'm so sorry for all your pain :(
    xxoo

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  18. No, not unreasonable at all. And I totally understand thinking that Georgina should have had a chance - I still wonder whether we should have delivered Sierra instead of letting her go in my belly, even though she only weighed 12 ounces (nearly 28 weeks, yes, but only 12 ounces). I wanted her to live so very much too.

    And going back to work has been really hard for me as well. I spend a lot of time hiding in my office.

    I'm sorry you're having such a tough time right now. I'm glad Jessica is doing so well. I'm remembering Georgina and thinking of both your daughters...and sending you lots of love.

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  19. Reading about Jessica's development warms my heart. I wish that Georgina were right there alongside her sister.

    Will we ever be free of "The bitterness, the resentment, the anger, the endless questioning"?

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  20. Catherine, Im so sorry you're having a diffiucult time. Reading your post and some of the comments made me realize Im not the only one who can deal with rainbow pregnancies, but not others...I wonder why that is? I totally feel like screaming when I hear others complain about their babies/pregnancies...they have no idea how cruel those words are. But ppl who have lost a child know our pain...they don't comment on their stretch marks or lack of sleep or psot-baby weight gain. Because they know we woul dgive just about anything to have those issies if we could just have our babies...
    I get physically ill at times too, but I feel like Im having a heart attck or like I can't breathe, I gues greif can manifest itslef in so many different ways, and the mind and body are so connected, like our emotional pain isnt enough!
    It's so wonderful that you have good news about Jessica, bless your strong little fighter!
    Greiving seems to have cycles to it, I feel in total despair at times, and almost content at others. Not sure why that is-Id prefer a more linear experience where I can see the end coming. But that end probably never comes, anyway.
    I find it interesting that you spoke of htat "prescence" you know Ive felt that too, and a few weeks ago I SWORE someone I know had died, because it was here, in my house, for about 30 seconds. And I had the nerve to tell it if it hurt or took my living child, I would get to it somehow, and make it suffer. I felt absolutely crazy, but I know what you mean about that feeling, and I wish I didnt.
    Thinking of you, and your baby girls, and mine. Sorry I went blathering on, but your posts are always thought provoking, so you brought it on yourself ;)
    Have a Merry Christmas, Catherine.

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  21. Grief is not ungratefulness, not really. And that pressure to be the old you at work - I feel that so often here. Mostly it's not bad, but there are days when it's wretched, when it feels completely wrong.

    I'm glad that Jessica is doing so very well. I wish her sister were there with you, doing just as well. Much love to you.

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  22. You have been through an incredibly traumatic experience with the death of Georgina and the struggles of Jessica who was so very tiny. Really it makes sense that you would sometimes have a strong, negative reaction to pregnancy announcements. Pregnancy can be such a happy experience, except when it turns out poorly it is completely crushing; how can you not remember your experiences, and feel pangs of loss for Georgina, and feel afraid for those making the announcements?

    Huge hugs for you Catherine, and huge congratulations for Jessica for growing so well and being discharged from physiotherapy.

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  23. I'm thrilled to read about Jessica's progress. And I 100% understand the situation you describe at work, and the feelings that result. The old you. . . the new you. . . nothing's easy6 anymore, is it?

    ((Hugs)) honey. Always thinking of you.

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  24. Dear Catherine, I think I don't comment as much as I should, simply to say, yes. Oh yes, I so get this. And I cling to your words to help me know how I feel. Because sometimes I can't even explain it to myself, let alone anyone else.

    I have become much, much better playing the ohyesImfineandyou? me. But the price feels so much steeper lately. Why now? I think Tracey said it so, so well:

    Maybe it's when the full weight of 'forever' started to set in.

    Thrilled for the good news of good checkups and health. Sad for, well, all of the other things that aren't so nice.

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  25. Thinking about you and wishing you had both your daughters with you. I'm so glad that Jessica is doing well (and that you let her enjoy cookies, too) :0) but can only imagine how every milestone is a reminder of your Georgina. xo

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  26. The milestones suck. All the things that should have been. I know.

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  27. Its excellent that Jessica had such a great appointment.

    I can totally relate to thoughts about other people who are pregnant. I hate that I have those thoughts and I know its not right, but its the jealousy taking over. I will pray for peace and healing for you.

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