25 April 2013

Anger? Anger! Where in the hell did that come from?


Wow! Here goes nothing.

I'm angry, no, actually pissed, and the thing is is that I haven't been angry in a really long time and not really ever at you. 

So why now? Why nearly after ten years?

I don't know if I can answer that. But I can tell you some of the things I'm angry about. And I thought I was done with anger. I mean, that was years ago. That was at the doctor, that was at myself, that was at the world, but it's never, ever been toward you.

And now, now I'm mad as hell. 

You could have chosen a better time, really! Why May 29th to die? Why June 1st to be born?

See, here's the thing. I like spring, I really, really like spring! I like the sunshine and the flowers just peeking up from the earth, and the way the dirt smells. 

I like the way the sun shines, cool in the morning, breezy in the afternoon.

I like Easter and the promises it brings.

I like my birthday at the end of April.

I like Mother's Day. No, I love Mother's Day. It's a reminder of these amazing children who I gave birth too from my body, born of love.

I like spring and all the promises that it brings after we have made it through winter, through the dark, cold nights, through the shorter days and cooler sun.

And I want to sing and dance and throw up my arms and rejoice that we made it through another darkness.

But here's the thing: there's a goddamn shadow that I just can't shake. And it's there, and it's dark and it tugs at my heart and it tugs at my soul and it shouts out to the universe in a language that scares me and in a language that's hard to understand and is filled with four letter expletives.

And dammit Grace you went and stole May AND June. Both months for me. And there's always that lingering sense that I was really expecting you in July so there's a third month you tried to steal!

January would have been a better month. Dark. Cold. Dead of winter. See, metaphorically it fits. When I write, all my characters die in the winter, all my sadness happens in the winter. It just works better!

But no. That didn't happen did it?

In fact, I tried really, really hard to give you a safe place. I ate all the right food, I mean I really did well with that pregnancy. In fact, it's one of my better ones. I did mostly organic fruits and veggies, I took my pregnancy vitamins for months before I got pregnant and during. Even on the days I threw up.

You? Did you try hard? Did you? I mean did you give it your best shot? When things were starting to get rough, did you kick me harder, did you try and send me any signs? Because I'm trying really hard to remember Grace. I'm trying to remember what might have taken me to the hospital one day early, what might have sent me kicking and screaming into the ER before your heart stopped!

So yeah, I'm pissed. 

TEN YEARS. And now this!

See ten years is double-digits. Do you know that when Carver and Sophia turned ten they were really excited. Double digits! And fourth grade. And most of us will remain two digits for the rest of our lives.

But no, you didn't even give me a day, not an hour, not a moment with eyes wide open.

See there's that whole still birth issue--dead at birth thing where people still, still don't really think it should be as big of a deal as it was. They didn't even meet you.

I didn't even get a goddamn birth certificate. Some stupid 'memory of life' thing that someone framed for me. And do you want to know the ironic thing? Do you? You get a death certificate. Yep, you have a death certificate but no birth certificate.

So were you even real?


Tell me, will you. Were you real? Because you never cracked a smile, cooed a sound, shed a tear. You never even looked at me.

Dammit Grace.



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