Jacquelyn's Space

Monday, September 19

There was a baby girl but she died this past spring.

Writing that line broke me up yesterday. I started to cry. I wanted to hit the computer, I wanted to yell it around the house and tear stuff up. I guess I wanted to go crazy but I held it in. Writing about it now really makes me feel the same way again. I feel I am going to explode – such anger and sadness.

My brother’s woman, Nicole, had a baby girl the end of March. The whole family was happy though they didn’t need any more kids; they were still living with my parents. But after three boys we were happy to welcome a baby girl into the family, the first granddaughter for my parents and for Nicole’s too. My husband and I went up to the hospital the day of the birth – everyone was there eventually and was so happy. My brother came with flowers and balloons that played a silly tune when tapped. We waited outside Nicole’s room to see her and the new baby. I have video of us waiting, excited and happy. I took video of the baby’s first bath as my brother looked on. I took video of my nephew’s (the big brothers) reactions to their baby sister. My oldest nephew Kenny was so excited and enthralled by his sister. I think I captured that silly little look of love on his face in one of my videos or photos. So cute.

Nicole named the baby Angelina Nicole – Angel.

The poor baby lived just 6 weeks. I saw her briefly at Easter. I held and fed her but she went with her Mom to the hospital. Nicole was sick with high blood pressure issues and a friend took her to the hospital along with the baby.

I saw the baby one other brief time when I baby-sat my nephews. My Dad came home with the baby after visiting Nicole in the hospital – blood pressure issues again. I held and fed her again. I listened to her wheezing, worried. All the kids were sick, stomach flu. The baby had been to the doctor a few times but they always said her wheezing was nothing to worry about, it would clear up eventually. It was normal for a c-section baby.

I changed her diaper twice – green poopies. While I fed her and changed her diaper I told her about how she was going to have to hold her own with her 3 older brothers – they were little hellions. She would have to learn how to be the boss.As I held her, I thought that she and I were going to be best friends. I thought of all the things I wanted to share with her – dolls, books, favorite places. I thought about all the fun times we were going to have. Were we bonding?

She was a little fussy but finally she slept. I had to leave, too much homework to do, too much to study at the end of the semester. I hoped I didn’t get sick, too much to do.

*

It was a Tuesday morning in May. School was done, I was happy that I got to sleep in. I was exhausted – we had went to Mackinac over the week-end and walked many miles. I had thought about going over to my parents the evening before but I didn’t go. I dozed but there was someone knocking at the door. It was my nephew Danny. He blurted out “The baby’s not breathing!” I stared at him confused. He said again, “The baby’s not breathing”  and then something about hospital. His Mom, my husband’s sister, is on the fire department in my parent’s township and had responded to the 911 call – she called my husband and then had her son come over to tell me.

I shut the door and hurriedly dressed, praying to God that the baby would be all right. I think I called my parent’s house. I think Nicole answered. I asked her what was going on. She said she woke up and the baby wasn’t breathing. The ambulance was there and she had to go. I thought about how devastated my parents, my brother and Nicole would be if the baby died. Maybe everything will be all right. I didn’t want to think but of course thoughts were going round in my head – please don’t let the baby die, please let the baby be all right. I thought about how Nicole had waited for a girl, and now couldn’t have anymore because when they took this last child, they also tied her tubes.

I drove to my parent’s house. I passed my Dad and brother on the way, on their way to the hospital in my Mom’s car. They were grim-faced. There was a lump in the back seat – ‘the kids?’I wondered.

I got to the house two cop cars were there – township and state police. My Mom was there talking to the cops. No sign of my nephews. The cops got word from the ambulance that they were taking the baby to a different hospital. I called my dad to let him know. On the phone I heard crying in the background, it sounded like my nephew Alex but it was Nicole. Poor baby. The cops left, and my Mom sat on her bench and cried. I hugged her. She told me she had heard the baby in the night, crying. She heard Nicole get up with the baby so she didn’t go and check on her. When Nicole awoke in the morning the baby wasn’t breathing. She came in and woke my parents up. My Dad performed CPR but the baby was so cold.

Horrible.

There seemed to be little hope in my Mom that the baby was alive.

Grim.

My nephews were in their room watching TV. When I went in the first thing little Alex said to me was “The baby died.” The youngest echoes, “The baby died.”

Heartbreak.

I didn’t know what to say. I still hoped that it wasn’t so. The boys weren’t too sad, just excited and they wanted to play. My Mom and I tried to get them breakfast, tried to get them to eat. My Mom told me how she rocked the baby the night before, how the baby seemed mesmerized by the clock, the pendant going back and forth, tick tock, tick tock. She had smiled at it and my Mom thought that she was beginning to fill out and be aware of her surroundings. Time, always time, time, time, no time, out of time -time is my enemy.

Knife to my heart.

Finally a call came; my Mom answered and took the call in the foyer. I followed. She sat down and started to cry again, “No, no, no.” It was done. The baby was dead.

Numb

I tried to hold it together while I talked to my husband. We needed to go up to the hospital, need to take the boys up there so CPS could check them out. Standard procedure when a child dies. It would be better if it were done that day, rather than a home visit.

We got the boys together. We took them. Finally I saw my brother and Nicole. My brother was crying but he was angry, especially over the whole CPS thing. We tried to calm him down. Nicole was like a zombie and she wanted to leave – I didn’t blame her. Her stepdad took her home while we, my Mom, Nicole’s mom, Brent and my husband and I waited for the boys to be examined. My Dad – I needed to see my Dad to make sure he was going to be okay. He had left – something to do for my brother’s business.

My sister-in-law had told me my Dad stayed with that baby, he stayed with her until they zipped her into a body bag.

No words…

Everyone at the hospital and the CPS workers were so nice, they just took forever. Finally we went home. I drove my brother and one, maybe two of the boys. My brother hugged his son and cried quietly in the back seat. The boy didn’t cry. The boys hadn’t cried. It hadn’t sunk in yet. Not with me yet either. We drove through the empty, broken streets of Flint from the hospital to the freeway. The day was gloomy. My brother sobbing, my husband and I trying to grasp at the right words to say. I tried to hold it in. I cried silently… I had to hold it in… keep it together.

Unbearable

We went back to my parents. My brother disappeared in the basement. Time to get dinner. I went to pick some stuff up – it was good to be useful. I waited for my Dad to get home. Nicole sat on the porch and cried. I sat next to her and rubbed her back, not having any words. She had packed up the baby’s clothes that day. I helped her stuff them into a brown paper bag to give to a friend who had a little girl. Regretfully. I wanted to grab something to keep of the baby’s but I didn’t…afraid to make it worse.

I waited for Daddy, couldn’t leave until I saw him, had to make sure he was going to be okay. Soon it was night, I was about to leave – it had been a long day. Finally Daddy came home. He didn’t say much but he looked tired, face drooping, his eyes were bloodshot. He had been crying. I thought about him, working, driving around alone, trying to deal with the grief. Poor Daddy, but just like him. Kinda’ like me too. He should let us in once in a while. Before I left I gave him a hug and told him I was sorry. He started to cry, his face twisted in pain. “It isn’t fair!” I cried. Daddy didn’t say anything, maybe just an “I know” or a “Well…” then put his hand to his face to clear away the tears and pain. He straightened up. He didn’t want to show his pain.

Had to be strong…

It was time for me to go home.

*

The funeral… how do you plan a funeral for a baby? Someone who hadn’t had a chance to live yet, someone you didn’t really know. It wasn’t fair! That is all I could think. How do you choose the proper flowers for your niece – the first and last you will ever give her? I chose a heart made of baby’s breathe…

Anger, anger, anger, and concern and sadness for my family. Why couldn’t it have been someone else? Someone evil.

The heartbreak of watching your parents grieve the loss of their only granddaughter. The frustration, helplessness of not having any words, not being able to make any sense of the situation. The anguish of seeing your nephew’s tears, grappling with death. The first time he cried for his sister – it had finally sunk in that she wasn’t to be. The one he was so excited for. More sorrow, thinking back to his silly little look of pride and love when he first saw her.

The horror of sitting in the hallway of a funeral home and listening to a mother sob on first seeing her baby, her only girl child, her last child, in a coffin. The little coffin my brother carried out to the hearse only after much convincing that he had to her go – it was time to let her go.

*

I am still angry. Nothing helps get over this loss. There is nothing to describe the death of a child. How it seems so incomplete; how it makes no sense. The only thing is to pretend it never happened but it did. It hits every once in a while but I can’t cry – I can’t give into it. If I do there is no relief from it. I tremble but I move on.

It isn’t fair. All the hopes and dreams for that child, all the love, where do they go?

I put all the pictures and videos I had taken on a disk for Nicole and my parents. They didn’t even take half of a dvd – it isn’t right that someone’s life could fit on one little disk. ~

Instructor’s critique:

There isn’t much more to say about this heart-breaking entry — you’ve really covered it all so beautifully — the anger, the grief, the grim and sad details.

Just Dance, Sunday September 18, 2011

My Mom and Dad live close by – about 5 miles. Lately my Mom has been going through a midlife crisis of sorts even though she is 61 now (I can’t believe it!). My Mom wants more attention from my Dad and my Dad has always been a workaholic. Daddy always worked – 7 days a week most of the time, all OT he could pick up. My Dad recently retired from GM but still works a lot for my brother’s home improvement business (actually Daddy put a lot into that business – to me it should be his). So he is still working his ass off. They really have little social life outside of us kids (I have one brother) and family. My Mom is chronically ill with many health issues – IBS, perhaps MS (doctors aren’t sure), and lots more other stuff. My Mom gets mad at my Dad because he doesn’t spend enough time with her, doesn’t do the things she wants to do.

My brother – he takes advantage. He brought his girlfriend to live with them many years ago, and so they have lived with my parents off and on for more than 10 years now plus adding 3 kids (my three nephews ages 7, 5, and 4 – there was a baby girl but she died this past spring) and 2 dogs along the way. As I mentioned, my Dad helped my brother start his business, and then get a house which he and his family have yet to move into because it needs some improvement (the house was bought about 2 years ago now). This situation has made it stressful for my parents and keeps them from doing things they enjoy and spending time with each other – Daddy is always working and helping my brother, my Mom is always watching or helping (with) the kids or cooking dinner for everyone.

Well my Mom gets unhappy with it all. She called me up last night to see what I was doing. I wasn’t doing much, perhaps a half-hearted attempt at schoolwork or watching TV with the husband. She wanted to go dancing but of course Daddy doesn’t – he hates dancing. He says he can’t dance. I don’t know. Well, she wants to go dancing and isn’t happy. I don’t know where to go dancing at and what kind of place would play the kind of music she likes to dance to. I imagine it is the moldy oldies, ha. Well the stuff from the 50s, 60s, and 70s. Now I could handle the 70s – I like to dance to something funky but I usually have to get drunk first.

Bing – Light bulb flash!! I have an idea. I ask her if she wants to come over and play on the Wii with me. ‘Do you want to come over and play?’ – LOL. I have a game called Just Dance 2 (plus the first one, and Just Dance Summer Dance Party. I bought and hadn’t had the time to play them yet- they were even still unopened). You look at the dancers on the screen and follow their movement while you hold the wii controller – it scores how well you follow the dancers. There is all kinds of music on these games – some new, some old. I told her she could come over and play Just Dance.

My mom came over and we played Just Dance. Whew, it kicked my butt (I bought them for the exercise – I am not much of a coordinated dancer, can’t follow the moves very well) though it was really fun. I wasn’t sure if my Mom would like it but she had a blast and we were both giggling. My husband sat on the couch and watched us (yikes!) and the dog got in our way but we still had a good time. Yay! I was happy that my Mom got to do something she wanted, well kind of something she wanted, and that she was happy too. Who knew we could have that much fun together playing a silly game.

***

I have a suprise for my Mom. While playing Just Dance she kept wishing there was some Michael Jackson music to dance to. I am not all that crazy about MJ but there is a Michael Jackson game – one of my friends has it (she even has the one sequined glove too, LOL). I ordered it for my Mom, plus the new Just Dance 3. Can’t wait until I have some free time to present to her and dance.

Tuesday, September 13, 2011

After a lovely evening on Mackinac Island we had a beautiful day. We had breakfast at the Grand (steak, yummy! Breakfast was better than dinner) then enjoyed the porch for a while. I sat and read for school (Virginia Woolf, The Voyage Out, ha) wishing I could live at the Grand. Then we hiked the island.

We started out on the west bluff, admiring the great houses that overlook the Straits and the Bridge. What wonderful views they have, and wonderful gardens. At the end of West Bluff Rd there is one of my favorite trails – Pontiac Trail, which runs narrowly along the west bluff and out to a small neighborhood with large hedgerows as fences. From there we went searching for the spot called Lover’s Leap. It was nothing too special, an outcropping of rock on the bluff, which became overgrown with shrub through the years. We actually had passed by it many times and thought it was private property but it is on a piece of State Park land that is between the private property. The spot seems forgotten.

From there we went to find Sunset Rock. Someone had told us it was behind the Inn at Stonecliffe. We had never been back there so it was an adventure. The Inn looks like something out of a storybook – they (the website) call it Edwardian style but to me it looks Tudor or Elizabethan. Though it is close to the west bluff it seems far from everything on the island – secluded. We had to go behind the Inn to find the trail to Sunset Rock. The map for that part of the island is not really good so it was hard to find the trail back on to State land (we were afraid of trespassing ) after a couple of wrong turns we found Sunset Rock and it was worth the trouble of getting there. Sunset Rock is on a cliff that juts out of the forest and has panoramic views of the Straits, the Bridge, and the Upper Peninsula. Yay, I am glad we finally searched it out and I will come back to watch the sunset from there; perhaps stay at the Inn at Stonecliffe.

After we found the Rock we hiked it back to British Landing then walked on through the middle of the island just enjoying the day and nature. We passed the cemeteries and I remembered the time in 2008 when we passed by on a carriage ride and I caught a chill. I hoped that didn’t happen this time because in 2008, after the carriage ride and the chill, I got sick. My stomach started to hurt, then my lower back, which made it hard for me to lift my feet and walk. Then I got really cold. My husband and I had to stop and rest on a stone bench in the sun so I could get warm. We actually left the island a little early that trip and I barely made the drive home I was so sick and feverish. I don’t know why but I always associate that illness to passing by the cemetery. I was diagnosed with a stomach parasite a couple of months later – not sure if I got in on the island or what but to me the events are linked. We passed by the cemetery without incident this year.

It was getting later, close to time to think about catching a ferry. I started to get anxious. I thought we were mistaken about when the last ferry was leaving that night. We looked at the ferry schedule and ascertained it would leave at 9pm, which is really late for this time of the year. Even though we had looked at the ferry schedule a few times got the same result I was still anxious, thinking we were going to miss our ferry. I usually get melancholy when I know I have to leave the island so I thought the anxiety was part of not wanting to leave. I felt like something bad was going to happen.

We did make the ferry. My anxiety dissipated but I was sad to leave the island. The moon was full and shone on the Lake. It was another beautiful night. I don’t remember ever crossing the Straits in the dark so this was something new. I tried to snap pictures but of course most did not turn out. When we got back to the mainland the boat dock was deserted. Our luggage was not at the baggage claim! We did track it down at the office but I was anxious again.

We hopped on I-75 for the trip home. I was just anxious to get home but also wanted to keep an eye on my speed. I couldn’t wait to get home and relax. I thought about how great the trip was. I thought about the house I thought was haunted. I had a dark vision of a  scary couple – kind of like the American Gothic painting but darker, evil. Did they belong to that house? I thought something was in our back seat. Nothing back there – don’t be silly. I just had this darkness hovering over me for a bit. I attributed it to my fatigue and anxiety. I pushed it away.

I was doing about 68mph.

 The road is dark even with a full moon. I look down to check my speed – still okay. I look up and there is something in the roadway! It was right in the middle of the lane and I didn’t have time to swerve – it was too big and too close for just a little swerve. I decide to run it over rather than go crazy all over the road. I had learned that the hard way many, many years ago. It, whatever it is, makes a heavy clunk as we run it over. Then another clunk as it hits the bottom of the car. Panic – did it damage the car? What is that smell?

Ugh, I smelled radiator fluid.

My husband tells me to keep an eye on the temperature. I switch over to the temperature gauge and sure enough the car was getting hotter. I really start to panic then. What should I do, I don’t really want to pull over to the side of the freeway in the middle of nowhere. Where is the next exit? What was the last exit?

I drive slowly for about a mile, maybe two and find an exit. I get off the freeway as my car goes into ‘cooling mode’ and the fan comes on making a clattering racket. Ugh! I pull into the gas station, the only thing around and turn off the car. It is still making that clattering noise. My husband jumps out of the car and looks underneath. I start pulling stuff out of the car in case it catches on fire. He can’t really see much, he is panicky too. He doesn’t know much about fixing cars (he doesn’t drive, never has due to an eyesight problem). He comes up from under the car and yells for me to turn the car off. It is off!! – I tell him. Oh no, my poor car, I hope it is not too damaged – the engine! I hope it is not going to catch on fire! Where are we? How are we going to get home? How are we going to get the car fixed? Oh no, oh no, oh no… The only thing I can think to do is call my Dad. It is around midnight. “Dad we need help!” and I briefly tell him what happened and that the car is making a funny noise and won’t stop. My Dad says it is probably the fan and will stop eventually. While I am talking to him I go into the gas station and ask the clerk where we are – Standish. Too far from home. I go back out and the noise from the car had stopped.

I make arrangements with my Dad for him to come and get us. Then me and my husband wait. I sit outside the car for a while in a chair we had in the trunk. I try to read for school but I am pissed and the night is lonely in the middle of nowhere, the wind is haunting. I thought about that haunted house and the scary vision I had while driving. I wondered what the fuck did I hit? It was not moving, whatever it was. At first it looked like a rounded lump in the road, it seemed to be dark brown and had a texture. In my mind as I got closer to it, it looked like an ape sitting in the middle of the road with its back toward us and his head down. What was it? Why didn’t I see it? Why couldn’t I avoid it? What was it? These thoughts went round and round.

My Dad picked us up around 3am. He couldn’t fix the car tonight. He said it needed a new radiator for sure and perhaps a new fan, fan shroud, and condenser. He said he could tow us home with his little Canyon pickup. I was doubtful until he told me he had towed my brother’s dump truck. I didn’t realize I would have to sit in the car the whole way, the car being off and in neutral, while I monitored the chain and kept at the ready to brake when necessary… I had never done anything like this again. I actually started to cry when my Dad told me. I was scared. We had 90 miles ahead of us – anything could happen. I had visions of my car rear ending my Dad’s truck and sending us both off the road, or visions of a big truck rear ending me and pushing me, my husband and Daddy off the road…scary visions. We started out. My husband rode with me. It was too fast – I was stiff with anxiety and panic. I cried out “He’s going to fast!” I said it over and over again until my husband called my Dad to let him know. Dad pulled over to the side and I tried to hit the break. No break! It felt like nothing was there anyway. I really started to panic, the chain popped off, then the car was slowing and finally stopped. Dad hooked us up again and after a pep talk we were off.

It felt like we would never make it. At the outset I sat stiff and scared in my seat – sweating, legs shaking, heart beating too hard and too fast, almost hyperventilating. Just as I calmed down a little and my heart was beating within normal range, my husband mentions the Zilwaukee Bridge, that massive hump you must cross when you travel to and from up north. How would I make it down that? I thought. I was getting used to being towed, keeping the chain slack, breaking steadily when going down hills but the Zilwaukee was one giant hill. Ugh. I made it though. We made it home safely thank God. It got a little scarier when traffic picked up close to Flint and everyone was heading off to work but we made it. ~

A compliment from my writing instructor,and a published author, on this piece:

 You should get credit for several THWADs (what she calls our daily journals) for this one, which documents such a scary and difficult trip.  I felt your angst all the way through — such good writing.  I don’t know if that makes you feel better, but once again you’ve demonstrated that there is some good even in bad events — your effort in writing about this event paid off with a startling and riveting account.  I’m so glad you made it home safely.