Nightmare

I had this horrible nightmare last night that my daughter died. I woke up holding my stomach and thinking, "how horrible if that had really happened!" Then I remembered. I am living my nightmare. I hate that I couldn't do anything to save her. I had this completely irrational thought the moment she was born. I thought, well, she's out now, maybe they can still save her.

I hate that all of the pictures I have of her after she's born are of her already gone. I hate that it was normal for us to talk about her with words such as death, morgue, mortuary, casket, funeral. The people that took care of her all had to do with death. The nurses, the funeral director. They were all compassionate and caring and talked about her like a real person, which I am thankful for. It's just so opposite of what it should be.

We have 3 folders that we keep close from our time with Clara. One is from the hospital with different papers going over how to cope after losing your baby. One is from pastoral care that goes over different support groups and ways to handle grief. One is from the funeral home with her information in it. Why we keep these folders so close I'm not exactly sure. It's not like they are happy memories. It is all we have of her though and we are desperate to hold onto anything related to her. We have her memory box, folders, and a few pictures. We need to find a good place to keep these, but we haven't done that yet. Putting these things away seems like a step I'm not ready to make yet.

We got a call from the mortuary a couple of days ago. They were just checking to make sure we were happy with her service and to see when we wanted to come in to pick out her headstone. What was funny was I had a moment of panic when I saw who had called because I was worried something had happened to Clara. But no, everything was just fine. This whole process is so weird! I really have no other word for it.

It feels like someone jumped in front of me, ripped out my heart, tore it up, and stuffed it back in my chest. Now I have to figure out how to mend it and determine which piece goes where. It will never be whole again, but it will be functional.

I have always been intrigued by death and it never has held much fear for me. Now, even less. I was telling Ken yesterday that although I don't remember having to get surgery after Clara was born, and even though I can't say that I fought to live during it, I am glad that I lived and if I had known, I would have fought to stay with him and Nathan and Isabel. I think that whole experience really freaked both of us out, and Ken says that he now understands how mothers can die during childbirth. It just takes a simple thing going wrong. I have no desire to die now or anytime soon, and I do look forward to seeing Clara again someday and to hold her in my arms. But for now, I have 3 people that need me so very much and who I need as well.