not death, but life

Oh, I need to write.  Luci's baby was born last night.  During my lunch break, I went to the hospital to sit with her.  It was a choice I made because I wanted to be there. When I knew she was being induced yesterday, I set my own terms.  "I will come visit you on my lunch break,"  I texted her early in the day, an order from myself.   I spent two hours there with two other friends while she was in early labor.  While I was driving there I kept thinking "why am I doing this?"

She was at a different hospital than I was, so there weren't as many panic-inducing situations as I expected.  I guess I was feeling particularly strong and whole yesterday, so I was able to sit in her hospital room and talk to her about her labor, and be ok.  The nurse came in and turned on the baby's heart monitor and that noise of a steady, beating heart was so beautiful.  I couldn't focus on the conversation anymore until they turned it down.

I know everyone was watching me to see how I would react, but not in a mean way.  I felt like my friends really wanted me there, too, and that they wanted to help guide me through this process.  My jealousy, which had been so strong, wasn't on the surface anymore.  Luci is not some pregnancy goddess put here to show me all that I don't have, she is just another woman, my friend, having a baby. 

On my way back to work I stopped and bought a baby gift, letting myself look at all the baby girl clothes in Old Navy and picking out a beautfiul picture frame at Hallmark.  Yes, I still wish that  I was picking out those things for Kayla, but it felt good to be able to do that.

I went back to work in the afternoon and at 7:00 pm found myself rushing to the hospital again, with Luci's sister-in-law, who didn't have her car and wanted to be at the birth to take pictures. Luci had gone from 6 cm to 10 cm in 10 minutes and was already pushing when we rushed in.  And that is how I ended up sitting alone outside Luci's hospital room, and heard her baby Julie being born.  I heard all of the "push, push, push,"  I heard everyone's encouragement, and Luci's hard work.   I sat in the dull hallway light, with my back against the wall, and I prayed and prayed.  Silent tears were streaming down my face, but I just kept praying.

I heard that beautiful cry right at 8:00 pm.  The moment between life and death, this time the moment turning to life. 

I got to meet baby Julie 10 minutes later, and I was able to be in that space, hug her mom, hug her dad, take pictures, and I didn't act crazy or lose it.  I was kind of even able to enjoy the moment and feel all the love that exists after a birth.  Later, someone handed me the baby.  I thought it was going to be ok, but my physcial instincts took over and I looked down at this breathing, moving baby and all I could feel was Kayla's dead weight in my arms, her flimsy and broken body.  I handed Julie right back and went to the bathroom to compose myself.  I just wanted to look at her, to see her breathing and opening her eyes and nursing.  It was beautiful, and I feel like a small piece of my heart was repaired.  I faced a lot of my fears, and I had to face them all at once and not make the moment all about me, and I did it.  Sometimes quick and fast is the best way.

I finally left at 10:30, by myself.  I walked out in the parking lot and there was a gorgeous full moon that I looked at for a few minutes, wondering if I was going to cry.  Well, as soon as I was in the safety of my car, I had a good solid minute of wailing.  I haven't cried like that in a long time.  I found myself screaming over and over again, PLEASE.  That was it, just PLEASE.  Please let me have that moment of my own someday, a moment that doesn't end in death and silence, but that ends at the beginning, with a breath and a cry.  Please, please, please.  I want that so much for my own life.

I got home drained, exhausted, but fairly peaceful.  I was still caught up in the miracle of birth, of telling the story.  I was surprised to find my husband quiet and sad on the couch.  I had expected him to be "fine" and instead he didn't even want to go to the hospital and wasn't all that interested in seeing Julie's pictures.  The day was just not what I expected.  I willingly put myself right there in the action even though everyone would have understood if I didn't want to be there.  

We fell asleep, and today I am kind of shell-shocked.  Another deep breath, and life goes on, and my loss is neither magnified nor diminished by Julie's birth, it's just reality.  And while Luci is waking up and nursing her baby and taking pictures and falling in love, I am waking up and taking my dog on a walk and enjoying a hot cup of tea on a cold morning.  I am still living.  Hearing Julie's birth and being part of that experience made me feel connected to humanity again. 


Whew, I needed to get all of that out.