Cathy the Librarian

who am I
to expect any more
when I desire the world
and I am handed
a small crumpled piece of paper
and empty promises

where can I go
to open my wings
to open my mind
and let myself soar

These poems were really too awful to post, but I thought I should let you know that I wrote them.

wake up
wake up
WAKE UP!

was it all a nightmare
you’re still not here with me
and I can feel the emptiness
a tight hard ache in my chest
can this be removed and
tossed away?

why can’t I just forget
I was frightened too
even though you’ll never know
I can never forget
the feel of you was too real
to fleeting before you were gone
and I was alone again

alone with my thoughts
and this tightness in my chest
that will not go away

who were you to be
would you give good kisses
warm hugs
and laugh as bright
as the sun
would you find every moment
just as precious as I do
even when I must spend it
without you

would you cry
when mommy has to leave
or would you forget
as soon as the door has closed

I can never forget
tiny hear beats
tiny flutters
tiny hands
I will never see

would you have been
a good person
sharing your smile
with the world

I will never know

why are there no answers
only questions
left unfulfilled
such pressure
I am buzzing with it
immense
unfathomable
I know I will never
ever
break from its grip
I am trapped
with no where to go
no going forward
no going back
and definitely no standing
still
oh if only my
heart my
mind
would slow
down
to
release this
awful
pressure

a light breeze
brushes away the hairs
tickling my face
tenderness
I need so much right now
so slightly
I smell lilacs
before they are gone

I feel anger
building
bubbling
frothing in me
waiting for me to
burst at the seams
but its not proper
to scream
to question God
to ask for answers
that will never come
to tremble
so much
with empty arms

who deserves this
the pity in their eyes
the uncomfortable silences
the quick glances away
trying to explain myself
normal
so I am no longer
a concern
all I need
is to smell your sweetness
is to touch your soft new skin
to look in those eyes
and see my own
reflected back
I’m just left with
emptiness
and cards to explain
my grief
which does not go away

no one sees
this small tight pain
deep in my chest
squeezing my eyes
shut
how I wish
it would sprout wings
flutter away
no
it burrows
creating holes
creating leaks
creating emptiness
where like was supposed to be
and I am left
so hollow
trying desperately
to smile
for all those watching
all I want
is to bury myself
and cry

I’ve not been up to writing. Every time I think about writing, I see that post and.. blah. However Jeff has been pestering me to write again, so I figure I should. When I say I haven’t been writing, that’s not absolutely true. I have a paper journal that I sometimes write in. One night in June I wrote almost a dozen poems about feeling bummed and helpless. I started to think that since my sister can get up the courage to put her poetry up on her blog… I guess I can too. They’re really awful, so I warn you now. Of course you won’t see this until after you read my stuff, so maybe I should warn you after too. 🙂

BTW, I’m doing better, but then I get to thinking about it, or I see a very pregnant person and I get all melancholy. Its interesting though, if I have to let someone I haven’t seen in a while know about it I feel like I need to console them and let them know its okay. Maybe that’s the public servant in me, needing to make sure that everyone’s okay.

Tuesday I went to work and as I was about to leave I began to feel awful. I got dizzy, sweaty and I could hardly walk or talk. Having some sense in my head, I went back inside. I called Jeff and told him, then called the doctor. As I was talking to a nurse I started to bleed. They said that they would talk to someone and call me back. I called Jeff and asked him to pick me up because there was absolutely no way that I was going to drive. He came and picked me up (still no word from the doctor) and we figured we would just start driving to the doctor’s office. I called them back and they felt that I should go to triage at the hospital.

Once at the hospital, I talked to a doctor and they decided to do an ultrasound. She found the baby and its heartbeat. It was even moving around a little. Unfortunately, what she didn’t find is any amniotic fluid. She found another doctor to get a second opinion, but she said the same thing. Turns out that I had broken my water. A baby that small can’t survive without amniotic fluid and its still too small to exist outside the mother. They said that I could wait and see if I could produce more fluid, but that it was very likely that the baby could die by that point or that I could get a serious infection. You can see where I’m going with this.

They admitted me Tuesday night around 7 pm and had me take some pills to induce labor. At a about 7 the next morning, I started getting really painful cramps and at around 7:45 I went into labor. By 8 am it was over.

They said that I could hold it, but I knew that it would make things a million times worse. They said that I could take pictures home and they make little memory boxes, but I really couldn’t bear to do that either. I also had the option of doing a private cremation and taking the remains home… I don’t know… I guess all these things made it feel more real, more like losing a baby… I just keep trying to tell myself that at 1/2 pound it was too small to live on its own, so that it wasn’t a real baby. It may seem harsh to some people, but I just really don’t want to think of it in any other way. It was an it… I didn’t want to know the gender, didn’t want to name it, didn’t want to bury it… I thought that maybe that thinking of things that way would make it easier to bear. I want to be strong. I was so very wrong. I keep thinking of the delivery, keep thinking of how empty I feel now, keep thinking of how much this baby was wanted, how long we’ve been wanting another one… I want to be strong for Jack, but something will pop into my head and I’ll just start to cry. I have to take the next week off for work and I was trying to cancel meetings and get everything set, but every time I talk to someone on the phone I start to cry.

Friends and family have been wonderfully supportive, but I’m afraid to start talking for fear that I’ll start to cry more. I don’t want to bother people or make them feel uncomfortable. Some of my library friends (whether co-workers or fellow librarians, I still don’t know) gave me flowers, which I really appreciated, but it made me cry more.

Luckily (hah) this all happened before we were supposed to have the anatomical ultrasound, because that’s when we’d know if it was a girl or boy. For some reason, I think knowing the gender would make it more real, because I wouldn’t just be able to call it an it. Plus we were going to bring Jack to the ultrasound, so he might have understood about being a big brother more. At least now we won’t have to talk about it unless Jack brings it up himself. I’m hoping that since he’s only three he won’t ask about it.

Since I was so far along, I also have to endure all the baggage that comes with post-pregnancy, without the joys of a screaming baby that you get to feed and change poopy diapers. There’s bleeding and lactating and hormones. Plus I have to take off the next week to recuperate. On the one hand, its good because I don’t want to start crying in front of patrons, but on the other hand being alone with Jack means that I have more time to think. I really don’t want to think. Thank goodness Sally is going to let me work from home for a bit.

I keep telling myself that all this is making me a stronger person. After two miscarriages, I will really be able to be sympathetic and understanding if a friend has one… I really wish that I couldn’t understand this well.

All I want is one more baby… not three, not ten. Just one more baby and then we’re done. Unfortunately, I don’t know how many more times I can go through this. I’m not one of those people that absolutely love being pregnant. I just love the outcome. I hate the swelling, the discomfort, the pain, the mood swings and crankiness. I hate that I am not all there for Jeff. I hate worrying that something bad will happen. I hate worrying that what I’m doing or eating could be bad for the baby. I absolutely hate that my anti-seizure medicine (Lamictal) tells me that I should discontinue use if I become pregnant and so my doctor increased my dosage…

I will move on from this. I will become pregnant. I will have another wonderful child and be an absolutely wonderful and doting mother. I will not allow this to take over my life. I will not spend thousands of dollars to try and become pregnant. If I can’t become pregnant, maybe we’ll talk about adopting. Or maybe I could just be happy with one terrific kid. I would like to give him a brother or sister, but if that can’t happen… I guess that’s just the way it was meant to be then.

I will survive. I know it’ll take time and tons more tears, but I will get better. I just thank the great Spaghetti Monster above that I have such a great family, such great friends, such great librarian friends and absolutely wonderful co-workers. Plus I have the most adorable son in the world and a husband who is there for me no matter what.

Oh well. Off to get some tissues.