Sunday, February 26, 2012

Stuck in a Moment


Miscarrying and bleeding awful day, let him go in the morning don’t complain.  Copes corn mixed with milk and green beans on the stove making me want to puke.  He admits it’s a flop and won’t throw it out.   I can’t even eat at the same table as that nasty looking… umm stuff.   I will definitely be sick.  I explain this and retire to my chair.  He yells and yells and yells across the house for me to come back to the table. 

“#$%^ YOU” rings across the house.  You can assume the direction that went.

                I don’t want to lose this baby.  I don’t want to lose this baby.  My heart can’t take that again.  Crying for the first time all day, first time I let myself sit since it started this morning. I thought that was happening last month, it was not, but if I continue to bleed there will be no denying it this time.  Two tests have confirmed this baby’s existence.  Appointment tomorrow to know for… sure?

                He comes looking for me. 

“Momma, please come to the table” 

“Why’s she (Baby girl) crying? “ 

“Because she misses you” 

“Why, really?” 

“I don’t know” 

“Did you really think I’d come after how you just treated me?” 

“I’m sorry, I’m just…” 

 “Just what? Miscarrying your third baby.  After letting you leave this morning without even complaining?”  (this would be defined as complaining)

“Fine, I’ll take care of the kids” 

                I have to stop typing to go rescue two out of the three kids from crying.  Baby girl recovers.  Duka returns to the table.  Relative peace.  Mascara runs dyeing the cracks in my fingers.  He calls me again from four rooms away.  He does not like it when I do that to him.  I feel like he should bring me a plate… make me some tea... rub my feet.  I feel ignored, mistreated.  He probably just doesn’t know what to say.  Maybe he’s disappointed and doesn’t want to look me in the face.  Seems like it could be true; it’s probably not.  My head tells me there’s a way to care for someone in this time, my heart asks if I care for him in times like this in the way my head tells me he should care for me?

                He comes and asks if he can bring me something, whoa?!  He apologizes for acting grumpy saying he has no right.  He’s right; he does not.  He offers egg salad with water chestnuts in it… bleck.  I think I’ll just eat chicken and mac and cheese if that’s alright.  I’m humbled even if only slightly.  Baby please stay.  I pour over baby names to distract.  Oh Jesus, please.  I have no right to ask, I am less than nothing, just look and see how I fail.  How I fall on my face. 

                The nurse says it could be sex.  Have you done that recently? 

“Yes” I reply.  That awful interaction??  That one is causing this heartache after all the wonderfully awesome experiences in the recent past?  How unredemptive.  There’s just no way to salve that wound.  “Lord, I can’t take this.  I can’t I’m not strong enough.  The cracks in the veneer are starting to show and Lord you know how deep they go.  I will be dust to be blown away by the wind”  

Do I even have a smile for Baby Girl?  The one I want to give a little sibling to?  It’s a weak one, I try to crack it but it may make the crevasses that much deeper just to smile.  But you know Lord, you know the truth.  You know that this sibling, any sibling isn’t about her, or me, or him or the boys.  This sibling is about You.  The one you told me for months in advance that would be coming.  Making birth control pills roll under refrigerators or drop in other bottles of pink pills.  Me, desperately fishing them out while contemplating divorce.  Till that voice in the kitchen, the one I couldn’t deny.  Asking for “Mama?”  Wondering where I was.  And me left searching for that child the one that sounds so much like Harvey but isn’t him.  Going all through the house knowing that none of my earthly, present, children asked for me but refusing to believe otherwise.  Until I settled on the truth, knowing you had spoken and threw the pink pills away.  Alright, Lord.  I won’t fight you anymore.  Now this.  Is this part of it? 

If so Lord, I do not understand.  I do not.  I will try and submit and hold on enough to not become dust and let go enough to follow your plan.  But the glue is failing, it is up to you Lord. 

sts2/20/2012
Was expecting this to be me in nine months



I'm stuck in this moment

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