Can you see us? (A Poem)

Can you see me
Curled up in a fetal position
Sobbing
uncontrollable guttural cries
that come from so deep within
few of us know such crevices even exist.

When we saw you
When we spied on you
thanks to the technology that liberated and confined all of us
us - our family
We learned you loved that position

We watched you punch and kick
when the tech tried to unfurl you
from the fetal position
that you knew so well
but you refused
we called you stubborn, like your dad.

We saw you
But you never saw us.

Can you see us now?
See the people who made you from love
Who created the little you
and loved you from the moment
you presented yourself
as a mere hormone
via a pink line

We made you
and we love you
unconditionally.

Can you see our pain?
How we ache everyday that you are no longer here
that every where there are reminders of the you
even though you no longer exist
outside of your hearts, our minds,
our souls.

You were a piece of us.
The first true piece of us.
An amalgamation of your mother and father
our strengths
our weaknesses
our faults
our visions
And we couldn't wait to watch them transform
into you.

Can you hear us now?
I used to hear your heart beat.
Every morning and every night.
Your father could hear it.
But sometimes you preferred when it was just me.
Our special moment
my spying on you
You with little space to retreat.
It was truly the most beautiful sound
Such a strong sound,
the doctors said,
as they assured me you were right where you should be.

Could you hear us before you left?
Could you hear our voices?
If so I hope you heard our laughs
Our giggles
Our joy
The sound of my heartbeat,
did it lull you to sleep?
Would you recognize it,
if you heard it now?

If you can see us,
and you can hear us,
you hold a precious, precious gift,
and I wish it was through a two way lens
So that we could see you
and know
that you made it alright
That there's no pain anymore
That there's peace where are you are
and that you've come to call it home.

I feel so hollow without you.
But if you can see me,
and you can hear me,
I know that you can also feel me.

When you feel me
You know that without you
Such a vital piece of me is gone.
Which is why you hear the guttural sobs
and see the constant embraces between your father and I
that leave me weak in the knees
is because I can no longer feel you.

The next time you look at us,
The next time you touch us,
I hope to feel the warmth of your little hands radiate from within
telling me
that you will always
see us
hear us
and fill me with your warmth.

Lots of blogging today

Today I'm vacillating between anger and depression.  I'm also feeling a ton of resentment.  I'm jealous of women who post their positive pregnancy test on Facebook immediately.  I wound never, EVER wish any pain or ill will on them, but I'm jealous that I will never and could never have that experience.  That any future excitement C and I feel will be tempered and pushed down by fear and anxiety.  I have absolutely no idea when I would think the next pregnancy is "okay" - probably once the apgar results are in and little one is in my arms.  Right now everything that just feels tainted.  I feel like we have lost so much innocence in this process and it makes me so, so angry.  I was so relieved that we were almost halfway through this pregnancy; I was starting to quiet down the scientist/geneticist in me, but now, she's thriving, she's taking control, and she's so angry.  I never expected to inhabit the tail ends of a normal distribution (does anyone?); yet here we are, trying desperately to learn to cope with it and to figure out where we go from here.

This pregnancy I was never calm; I was never confident that things were all well down in fetus land.  I refused to announce, and believed that announcing before the anatomy scan would be premature.  At the end of the day, I am at peace with this choice.  This means there are few people that we have to tell that our little man is not one for this world.  

My D&E is scheduled for Friday.  I've consulted my OB, my local peri, and had a day of testing at Columbia-NY Presbyterian, and all are in agreement that there is an underlying syndrome at play here and little one will pass on his own, and that at this point, the D&E is the best path forward.  No one second guessed me; the medical professionals were in complete agreement with the decision.

I'm not scared of the surgery; well, I am in that I'm terrified of waking to find that something went tragically wrong and I am now sans uterus.  I'm more scared of tomorrow; the prep for the procedure.  I have a very difficult time with having things inserted there; it just makes me wildly uncomfortable, and so knowing that as of tomorrow I will begin dilating, does not make me feel any better.  I hope that after the next 48 hours I have a bit more peace and a bit more closure, but of course it's possible I have unrealistic expectations.  

I don't know what to expect right now.  I have no idea what emotions I'm going to go through over the next 48, 72, 96 hours, weeks, months, etc.  And I have no idea what C will go through either; I just know that no matter what, we will be going through them together, comforting each other every step of he way, and that together, we will find a path forward for us, and hopefully for a family.