best gift of the day

elle: "my mom..."

cg: "my pie..."

elle: "i love you mom."

cg: "i love you too, peanut."

cg: "elle,"

elle: "what, mom?"

cg: "what is love?"

elle: "love, ummm, love is like somebody to take care of."


happy holidays.

the mailbox

husband and i stood at the chopping block opening mail, many envelopes filled with christmas cards, some with bills, some with crap. one by one, we opened the cards.

husband: "why do people send picture cards of their kids?? who wants to see that?"
cg: "i do, you idiot! what the hell is wrong with you?!"
husband: "we will never do that!"

i never knew he had such a pet peeve. it would have been obvious, had he told me during our first infertility years...he didn't even talk to his friends who had kids, he couldn't even watch a diaper commercial! but now? i'm definitely not the card-sending type of girl, but i would have sworn he would want to send out a picture of his beloveds!! weird, i tell yah.

he got to one card, turned it over, and clutched it to his chest with a really shocked, "what the fuck do we do with THIS" face.

WHAT?
WHO SENT IT?

he stood there for a long time, not wanting me to see.

then he handed it over.

i saw who the sender was on the back flap, opened it, and read it:

dear [charmed],
i have been thinking of you so much since the anniversary of p@ige's death. when we last spoke you were finding some comfort with the bere@vement group. i so hope that has continued to help. i can only imagine that the triplets are keeping you extremely busy. i have had occasion to be in your area both with families i am working with and two students who are nearby. it would be lovely to see you. but most importantly, i wanted you to know how your lovely presence remains with me. my warmest wishes to you and your family now and always.
fondly,
[the pompous ass of a midwife who caused your baby to die]

i didn't really feel anything, but why the fuck did she feel the need to tell me she was working with families in my area...families whose babies probably would be born the way they should be? probably because it is ME and my dead baby that were just the unfortunate victims of circumstance, and had nothing to do with HER and her inadequate practice, or the rest of the world, for that matter.

maybe she sent it because she was just informed of the investig@tion recently opened against her license. i mean, we last spoke about two weeks after i delivered last september. why now? the holiday fucking spirit? this isn't even a christmas card. it's a blank-inside number with a close-up picture of a blooming iris probably symbolizing the opening cervix or some such shit.

whatever her intention, it was a shock. it also makes me wonder how much she already knows about the shit storm about to befall her.

hey, at least she'll have some notice...more than i had, anyway.

what shock looks like

i opened my eyes this morning and my first two thoughts were:

1- i think i left a comment on p@ige's name in the s@nd picture using my charmedgirl name and the pic is posted with her full name and OH MY GOD someone can google my last name and find this blog and i have open legal cases and i say whatever-the-fuck on here and HOLY SHIT i couldn't have done that, could i have?? (i could have and absolutely did...)

2- what the fuck was i thinking, having so many visitors in the hospital after having p@ige? i was in the hospital for five days, and there was a steady stream of people coming in and out, and i didn't even care. (don't bother asking what the fuck the photographer was thinking taking this picture, i mean, you'd think someone just announced i won the lottery for the love of god. husband will capture the moment, goddamnit. don't make me prove it by posting the picture he had taken of the two of us with his dead mother...) anyway, still sleepy this morning, i remembered this picture and thought, what a perfect summation of what it's like to have a dead baby, week 1. there i am, shocked, composed. there everyone is, visiting. mulling. carrying on with whatever the fuck. when it's time for them to leave, they leave. still i sit there, sometimes crying softly, sometimes ridiculously philosophical, sometimes just there, ever composed. there i was in bed this morning, thinking of this picture, this scenario. i cringe when i think of the visitors. i cringe when i think of how i was just so gone, so not even there. i hate that i allowed all those visitors. i hate that i was so gaping open and everyone saw...well, they saw what you see in the picture, me sitting there, composed. such a juxtaposition in my mind....

i'm glad i have that fucking awful goddamned picture. i'm not sure why, but i am.
proof? probably.

eta: i just noticed the bag full of piss from my catheter by the bed...meaning i was what, a few hours out from the c-section?? jesus CHRIST...it was worse than i thought...