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.