A Poem for My Grieving

A Birthday Wish List
By Vickie Bacon

I wish the endless nighttime feedings were what made me groan & stupor;
I wish the baby’s diaper pail made the house smell offensively like pooper.

I wish my bottles weren’t packed away inside a box;
I wish I got to take my stroller out in the dirt and rocks.

I wish there were outings: to doctor, friends and mall;
I wish there was a door post to watch her grow so tall.

I wish I weren’t so lonely at the end of a long day;
That the sparkle of her giggles would brush it all away.

I wish I were exhausted, so weary and quite teary
From being up all night & day,
her fever makes me worry.

I wish the clothes I have for her were stained and quite outgrown;
Her wardrobe was astounding; the best I’ve ever known.

I really wish her potty chair and playpen had been used;
I got to be the one who lost and I’m not all that amused.

I sometimes wish my losses could have been given to another,
To let them know the sort of pain there is;
an agony like no other.

I’m told to count my blessings,
That it all was for the best;
Except it's really not that easy with their bodies lain to rest.

I suppose there are some things left to life and even love,
But saying things like that aren’t helpful when your children are Above.

I wish I could complain like other normal ladies;
to know their plights of motherhood would release me out of Hades.

Some would say with certainty that I’m really very lucky;
My losses are a blessing, see
Since no young ‘uns make make life yucky.

I wish for crayons on the walls,
and unkempt toys strewn down the halls;
For speedy chubby baby days of play and drool and crawls.

I wish for patty cake and peekaboo
Instead I’m left with wails and sobs and
booo hooo hooo

So when your frantic days of motherhood makes you really fret,
Stop and ponder an awful plight with which you haven’t met...

For blessed you are if on that day you heard your baby’s cry;
The anguish of a stillbirth hasn’t made you want to die.

There is no deeper silence than a baby who’s born dead;
You get to leave with arms content, while we get hearts of lead.

Yes there are those days when Calgon isn’t quite enough;
the dog’s thrown up, the mood is bleak, and new motherhood is rough.

But the reward of all that strain is the sweet & tender kiss;
The one thing we don’t get that we will always miss.

We don’t get fussy nighttimes when the baby just won’t sleep;
We get silent nurseries;
a crib without a peep.

We get no new photos or new baby teeth;
We get a few memories and a cemetery wreath.

I rocked you Oh so lovingly on the day that you were born;
I really had no clue the depths that I would mourn.

I sobbed as I sang to you alone inside our room;
I couldn't believe what happened,
that you'd left us quite so soon!

The time was very brief when I met you on that day;
how quickly it all happened,
then they snatched you clean away.

But one thing I pray that I never forget
Is how very special it was that we met.

No, there’s no greater hardship than to not have your baby;
Don’t even argue,
there isn’t a maybe!

You’ll never know just how sad and remorse,
you will find yourself feeling as you cuddle her corpse.

There is no greater robbery than saying our goodbye;
To have the world move on ahead,
while all you ask is, WHY???

And if you think hormonal after care is hard,
imagine how intense it is putting TWO beneath the sod.

Certainly all that should help you keep your focus,
that motherhood’s a blessing and complaining’s slightly bogus.

Yes, it is a very sad idea that I’ve had within my head,
I sometimes wish my mother would have known this pain instead.

Weepy Wednesday

Just read a post from an online friend. She was attempting to encourage another friend to go ahead and vent her all about me (AAB) newborn whining. They both fail to realize how stinking lucky they are to have kids in the first place.

They've never been fortunate enough to hold a dead infant in their arms. They never got to plan a funeral for their child. Oh, and they never got to plan yet another funeral for another child either.

Oh they whine and complain about swollen breasts and sleepless nights. Boo fucking hoo. Engorged breasts never felt so painful as they do when the milk comes in, but there's no baby to nurse from them. They have no idea how horrible those sleepless nights are when there is no baby--when the baby has died.

It's so hard not to wish this on others. Their blissfully clueless snobbery makes me want to scream. Why didn't they get this plan instead of me? What's so special about me that I got to have TWO baby funerals while they got none???

How is it possibly fair that a woman terminates her child's life because it's an inconvenience to her' but when she's finally ready, she spits out two children with relative ease??? How come I didn't terminate any of my pgcies and yet had two out of three of my pgcies grow to infancy only to die??? Why did I get TWO dead; two that died beyond my control, and yet she's rewarded for killing hers?

This world sucks and I don't like it here anymore. My heart is bleeding and I'll never recover from the incredible pain. It hurts worse now than it ever did.

Please Lord, what the hell is happening to me??? Why did You do this to me??? What do You want from me???

Happy 21st Anniversary

Well, we don't have much to show for our time: one grown son and two baby girls in the cemetery. But we made it without homicide or suicide, and we're not drinkers. Not bad, all things considered.

It's been such a sad couple of days. Father's Day was just so bitter for me. I'm so angry that Anne had to die; that God wrote such a shitty plan for me. I mean, come on--cut me a break! To top it off, my journal this morning was just not what I wanted to hear from someone who certainly has no clue about what my life might be like. Brian & I discussed it and came to the conclusion that she'd never stomach the shoes I've been wearing; ever. Why God didn't I get a happy baby ending? Why did you take her from me too? Please help me get through the next couple of weeks without hurting myself; please...

Mad Mad Mad

I finally did it. I green dotted another ovumember that I just can't stand. I've felt badly disliking her so much cuz everyone seems to like her; my own friends included. But I just can't take another minute of her, so I dotted her out of my sight. I really need to work on my Isaiah blog anyway. I needed to go back to bed this morning too, but didn't. I've got to get a new life!

Tales of a Turtlebird

Goodness gracious this site has been giving me grief. I had a whole post typed out and it crashed. Then it won't let me post a photo. Then I got a tinypic code and it crashed on me again. All I was trying to do was talk about how much I've been writing lately in reference to faith and forgiveness. A friend got one of those lightbulb experiences about an abortion she had years ago, and it's inspired her to see the grace of God in a whole new way. I tribute that to Him and the grace He's given me as I've told Abigail and Anne's story. It's been incredibly moving for my heart to think of my girls as having helped save someone. They'd give their lives to save someone; they would be happy they've had such an impact on the world. Thank you God for hurting me so good.

Anyway, all my writing has convinced me that I need to get on my Isaiah blog, so these people here at blogger better get their problems ironed out. I also need a stronger body to be able to withstand the extra computer time. I finally find a life work that I enjoy and yet it hurts my body when I'm not careful. I've got lunch tomorrow with the family, so I won't have time to work on my lessons till the weekend. I think I'll start with God the Creator. We have to start at the very beginning to establish sovereignty. From there I'll move on to Eve and how her Curse has impacted my life. There will be lots of lessons that come from that. I think I'll use my journal here to get my ideas outlined. Please no blog crashes...

Give me strength and health, Lord.

Manic Moody Monday

My body is so unwell. I'm swollen and bloated. I need to remember my midol and an antihystamine.

I did virtually nothing today. I caught up with email and ovuland and then took a shower. I went back to sleep until Brian got home. I've not felt well for days. There's a lot of hard pressure in my deep middle. I'm thinking ovaries are moving around swelling and stimming. I can only imagine what my innards look like.

I've been struggling so badly in heart, mind and body. I feel markedly insane. I don't know what to do to change the downward spiral of depression and illheath. Please God give me some sort of physical healing that allows me to get a better move on. Help me be more productive with my writing time. Help me remember to get outside and enjoy the flowers a little more too. Help me Lord; restore to me the joy of Thy salvation and uphold me with Thy free spirit. Please Lord, as you restored David and prospered him, please do so for me as well. Thank you Lord Jesus for saving me. Thank you.

Words from the Weary

Just finished watching "Walk the Line." June died in May, 2003 and Johnny followed four months later---probably right about the time we found out about Abigail. Two thousand and three was quite a year, eh?

Followed up on our financial portfolio. Upped the life insurance and SEP investments. Please Lord let us do something right for a change. Went to Fuddrucker’s for dinner afterward. Costco didn’t have my rx’s ready, so we have to go back later in the week.

They had already closed the cemetery when we got there after dinner….Way earlier than they were supposed to, so I had to stand & watch through the gates as Brian watered. I think it’s time for an email to Brad---I found his email on the Internet tonight.

I’ve been very weepy since finishing up with the investment guy. Telling him the story about Abigail and Anne was just too much, and doing it with a straight demeanor was wicked hard. I’ve needed to sob ever since I got in the car, but no tears yet.

Wrote an email to Kim explaining a little bit of my ovu-frustrations. She sent me an ecard that was nice.

I begged off lunch with mom and Julia; just can’t handle it this week. I feel so fragile and on the brink of hysterical insanity. I’ve got to make some tea this weekend or something. I’m strung out on life; I need heroin to ease the pain---too bad I hate needles.

Father’s Day approaches and I have no ideas. Here’s a ticket for a week off planet, Honey.

I worked on Anne’s feet prints today; need a new ink cartridge, but the grey copy might actually look best in the piggie frame I got for her birthday. The blue set is the best, but the pink matches better. Her little feet were so sweet. It made me realize that Abigail really was a normal baby---compare their feet and they’re just not the same. One was normal and the other quiet a’skew. Poor little crippled girl with her stubby feet on her stubby legs with her crooked fingers. But good golly she was awesome. God certainly got the better deal when He made her. I’m so glad He showed me the special side of her; the exquisite side of who He made her to be.

Thank you Lord for sharing my girls with me. Please let Abigail know she was awesome too and how terribly sorry I am that I didn’t get to see that for myself until it was too late. Please hold them close for me; tell them about me. Please make these burning tears worth it; please make the choking lump in my throat worth the agony of giving them back. Please restore the joy of your salvation; please...

Troubled Tuesday

I've decided to make this my place where I can speak without audience; just be myself without worrying about who likes me or approves of my ideas. I've missed Anne terribly today. I enjoyed sitting with the girls at the cemetery after the gym today. I've had such a hard time enjoying my cemetery time now that the lawn & weeds are so horrid. Well, it's the grounds crew that's horrid, and they add to my grief in a huge way. I did get a good sweat at the gym today though. But I've also been chronically pained and desperately tired. I have no will to live and my prayers are weak & shallow. I feel terribly abandoned by God. I wrestle with what it is He wants from me. How does He expect me to heal from this??? I'm beyond broken. I hate that people don't seem to understand that. So I'm trying to figure out how to make my space here just mine; something nice and non-intrusive; something to help me find peace. Maybe I'll open it up for public perusal later, but for now my goal is to try to find some acceptance that my children are dead by writing my musings just for myself. Maybe God will speak to me here and help me find myself again. Please God; will you help me...

The Searing Sorrow

Monday's are always rough. The well of emotions seems to slosh behind my eyes. It wants to spill over, but sometimes getting the crying to start is hard. I'm consumed by so much; I don't even know where to start. I miss her as much now as I did the day she died; it's not possible that nearly a year has lapsed. I want her back with all my heart.

Went back to bed this am after my coffee. Got up at 10:30, did a few chores and dealt with ebay and banking. Went to the girls' and to get water later in the afternoon. Talked with Laurel about our new car and how there's just no excitement or joy in it. It was hard to talk to her and not cry. It's a shit ass time of year for me and the world has moved on into their clueless oblivion. It's just as well, who the hell wants to stick around through my depressing crap. I often don't think I'll live through this at all. I suppose we shall see. Brian wants to go to the gym tomorrow. I hate the gym.

I've been in chronic pain. I avoided pain meds today, but will probably regret it tomorrow. I think it's hormonally related since the swelling is remarkable today and yet it's been manageable for a couple weeks now--until the cycle runs it's course and then I start to swell badly. Go figure.
I'm grieving so much; far more than a classic mid-life crisis. There's
Abigail's death
Anne's death
ill heath,
chronic pain,
age,
disability,
infertility,
abandonment,
empty nest,
do I dare keep going...

there's a whole slew of issues that would take a lifetime of psychotherapy.

Please Lord don't leave me so scourged; please....

Smoochies from Anne

Hot, tiring day. The last few days have been overcome with flashbacks which enevitably result in unexpected sobs--very much a grief response that takes a great while to "get over." It's very similar to post traumatic stress disorder issues. I've been feeling panicy and remarkably alone & misunderstood. I finally got around to starting a blog here; I guess I want to have a place apart from the boards to vent and scream. We'll see how it goes. I just want a place to talk about my baby girls and how much I miss them both.