Frost

I wrote this just now, after coming in from a walk.

Frost, Red

Sun is not the only bleach of nature
the green of the raspberry leaf is almost gone
fast faded last night by our third frost.

The first night of frost hit high
the edges of plants and trees, burned black
or scorched white,
but still a steady green
held on. So recently close, the sun must stay
just one more day, maybe another
each day of waiting, green gathering food down
into the roots, readying for winter

The second night of frost hit harder, lower
gone basil, gone tomato, gone okra, gone cosmos.
Mint in its sure bed stayed green, and oregano
and raspberry. Those hardier plants.

The third night of frost edged this leaf in white
the pale green that was yesterday’s emerald is soft
against my face, removed from its red and thorned cane
my winter rough fingers barely pricked.

Each day I think it is almost done,
but my body sends forth reminders of what I lost
and am still losing. A season of blood that began
with what you helped plant into me, returns anew
after your entry last night into my body.
As if I could not go one day with only pleasure,
pleasure free of grief’s reminder.
Gone baby, gone May, gone crawling by autumn.

And still I hold onto my love for red, clad head to toe.
Though, I seem to grab any green thing
these days. Green leaf, green blanket, green cloth to warm my neck.
I fill my pockets with seeds
pull acorns from under my car, they roll together,
so constant I forget them, reach in my pockets for warmth, curl fingers around
the round hard things, smooth, with just that one sharp place.

Nothing will grow without the reminder of pain,
the need to shatter before burgeoning.

Air Poem

I have had some lovely moments this week; breakfast with a friend, talking with Mr. S's mother, 'playing' with my college students, laughing at "the office" with Mr. S. Life does go on, and I am hoping these moments increase.

I wrote this on Tuesday, trying to get myself out of the beta taking grump I was in. This poem is a bit more experimental, in voice and form. I questioned posting it(and any of them, actually, as I hope to someday get some version of them published) but having read some other people's blogs, these past couple of days, and thought "yes, that is how I feel, thank you" I have gained the courage to keep posting my raw work.



The unchangeable air

I.
Night-chilled morning air
over cold marble will always be
that morning in Athens
rushing towards the ferry,

just as afternoon sun, fall-golden
will always be myself, walking alone
by the pond that first year of college
sun through tall pines, with a slight mist.

Memory distilled by time,
how places are distinct in geography and surrounding,
but for the air; its texture, glow and touch, mimic of a lost moment.

For how long will grief tinge
this, my favorite season’s light?

This is not the time of loss, it cannot be.
it is the time of harvest, of friends
gathered by tables. Stands of food
a spill of bounty. We shed our coverings
but keep them close.

We know the cold is coming
and we treasure each day it does not
arrive. Stuff ourselves full
of golden light, of still green trees.
Days of bare arms and squinted eyes.
Is the measure of joy greater for what can be lost?

Am I still that woman, rushing to the ferry?
Lonely, hopeful- following that week’s friend.
Back weighted with just three items of clothing,
water, a notebook, guidebook, camera and paint.

Am I also that girl by the pond, alone, but content
with a wealth of community building around her?

II.
Remember them both, but regret that presently
each day will find you are a new person. Someone who looks
back on that old, yesterday self with a fond nostalgia.

That simple happiness. Those small worries. How little she knew
of what can be lost.

Don’t expect to be recognized, these days. Look in the mirror
and expect bruises, new lines. Your face is almost familiar,
but so very still. Why so still? Where has the dance gone,
the minute joys?

III.
That morning you walked into the garden and the sun glowed clear on the milkweed and trumpet vine, how the bees, moths and butterflies floated up, and you thought “finally, it is all perfect” and looked at all that your hands had placed in the earth, and all that the sun, rain and air had changed. All you had done was place seeds and seedlings, small plans. Every planting, it felt that day, for this exact moment of happiness. The tomatoes in their second flowering, the okra reaching upwards, the sunflowers wild by the driveway, fallen, but propped. Glowing. Finally arriving in the moment you had longed for, for almost three years. “It is all beginning,” you felt. But, it wasn’t continuing—that is the hidden part, the shadow secret, cold and damp beneath the overgrown bush. Mouse bones and bird beaks, uprooted discard of weed, worm and grub.

Would you want that memory gone, now, in your present grief?

“Yes,” she says, “those memories hurt most of all, that woman-wife almost-mother. All her measurings of hope. The beautiful sun and golden air. They are the same. But I am not. That happiness gone, that light continuing, the hours go by, re-form me over and over. Painful cellular growth.”

IV.
Blood then dryness then blood.
Shed, erase, dissipate. Glass between me and everyone I know. Removal,
separation. The betraying light, beautiful and untouchable,
unchangeable. I shut my eyes, but sun seeps through,
paints my eyelids red. Too much red, I expect to see it everywhere,
worry that I smudge each place with my body’s leavings. What I don’t say,
the unacceptable proof.

'come back in a week'

Well, I no longer feel like I am floating/upside down, but I can't pretend all is well, either.

We were at a wedding reception on Saturday night, and I was pretty fine, enjoying seeing friends, etc. Then I saw a man holding his wife, with his hands on her belly, and he did the same thing when they sat down. Somehow, I could handle the woman who was really showing, but the woman who didn't appear pregnant, but whose husband's actions made me guess she was just brought home to me that I had been expecting to be just past 9 weeks when I attended the wedding. Expected to have been released to my OB, and getting excited about the 2nd trimester. I got very sad, sad enough for Mr. S to look at me(as we were dancing) and say "what is wrong?"

Earlier that night, someone we hadn't seen in awhile asked Mr. S how he's been. He said "great." and I asked him later, "How can you say 'great'?" he said, "well, the rest of my life is fine." but really, he has been down as well. I realized that he said 'great' because that is what people want to hear.

Today I went in for my 3rd beta blood test to see how the hcg is dropping. I hate going in for this. Always, before, bloodwork was no fun, but at least was working towards something. Now I am working towards nothing. Literally. At 6wk5days, the day of the miscarriage, my hcg was quite high- 35,000. Eight days later it was 1250, which was a marvelous drop. But today, 2 weeks after the last draw, it is 670. They like it to get close to 0 before you start anything again.

Having to get up early to go in for b/w, sit and wait, and then have the sharp smell of alcohol, pain of the needle and even the stick of the tape, bulky under my shirt are all just one thing too many. The ironic thing is that I was not feeling too badly today, until the call about the number. I had thought this would be my last visit to do b/w. Now I don't know how many more I will have.

I think I've been waiting to have something hopeful/encouraging to write. But today, I decided I just need to write here when I want.

Some days are fine, no day is happy, I don't cry everyday anymore, but when I do cry it comes almost as a surprise, like "oh, I am crying again" and it is fierce and unexpected. I hold myself very still, when travelling between things, places, appointments, the usual errands. I have moments when I think "at least that earlier grief prepared you, some"(when I think of my grandfather's death, or some other, earlier trauma) and wonder what strengths I will gain from this. In a way, I don't want to learn anything. But, I'm experienced enough to know I will, and, in a way, to resent that. Both the knowledge of the fact, and that future wisdom.

messy

we spent the weekend away at a rainy/grey poetry festival. Today is 2 weeks since we lost the baby. I have hours of almost ok-ness, and then overwhelming sadness.

Here is today's poem:



summer’s leavings

the flour is webbed and so is the almond meal
cayenne reveals one wriggling worm, dropped
into the pan of sizzling potatoes and removed
with a quick flick of the fingernail

the last tomatoes are rotting in the fridge
pressed close to clear drawers, they soften and sour
the yogurt has molded a green airy moss

crickets gather in corners
in each room’s pretend night,
sing and mate
moths dot the doors of the cupboard
make the inside air a wild thing
they die in grey smears and dust
we no longer feel guilty, routinely
wash our fingers clear and return to our day

the new fridge leaks water, a stream
every other day that follows the slant
of our sloped floor, small breaks
in the screen allow mosquitoes and flies in
we tape the mistakes we find, and know
there are others, unseen

and so our house creaks back to a wooded
field, though we struggle, live with daily removal
sweep cricket eggs from the corner, discard the box of nuts

honey grows golden in the jar, crystal edged
we freeze everything we remember to
and put faith in sealed jars that sometimes work

I take down the pictures of what was growing
for a time, in me, from you
I don’t know where to put them
leave only that photo of the two of us
with that hope between us, in our eyes and slight smiles

some days, I hate that picture, though we are almost beautiful
in that happy time, under trees
with family, unseen, all around us

all the flowering herbs of summer
make a muddy water in their jar, a swampy thing

the zucchini rots at one end, I cut the mold away
grate the still firm middle
scoop flour from the middle and examine for worms
also the meal, and the sugar
eyes search for each invader
praise the fresh egg and the untainted vanilla
take spoon, measure and stir

wait some time, let the oven do its one job
containment and release, the rush of flame
of the heated air, the alchemy of our everyday lives
ignore the neglected plant for one more day
let it go, leaves dropped more than leaves held

we are losing it all, I feel right now, but make something anyway
today’s small gift of muffins, spiced as I know you like them
what I can stir together from summer’s leavings

stupid sunny weather

I am writing a lot, a couple of stories, and some poems. It is helping me get through this. My students are writing form poems this week, so I decided to write a loss sonnet. Here it is, fresh from being written this morning...

Changeless Days

Since it happened, only days of bright sun
warm air, squint eyes to the sky of high blue.
I measure the hours towards sleep, one two, one two.
Stay close to my house, avoid everyone.
When I allow myself, I wish it were undone,
I want life as it was before, happiness true.
Those flowers glowing on my fence rail glue
this season in my mind, our hopes undone.

It happened on a day we planned to celebrate
and though I held my body tight,
hot then cold, there was nothing I could do.
I prayed those longs hours until dawn, awake.
Now I fear the scene-filled night
where each dream replays us losing, dear child, you.

fairy tales

Before I got pregnant, I realized something. This is probably something others have noticed, but it just occurred to me a few months ago. Many of the fairy tales I grew up on had issues that could be perceived to be infertility issues.

They often started with "once upon a time there were a king and queen who longed for a child...." (or woman, sometimes) after many years their wish would be granted. Sleeping Beauty was one such story, Thumbelina and Rapunzel others...I am sure I am forgetting many.

Now I am on the flip side. The fear of the lost child side. Hansel and Gretel, Snow White, Little Red Riding Hood.

Each night I have dreams I am looking for someone. The first dream was the most obvious. I was dragging my hands through a shallow pool of water, saying " I am looking for my son."

The last couple of nights it has been toddlers, a boy and girl. Each night. I am always looking for them. I am not desperate in these dreams, I seem to think I'll find them. But, I don't have them with me.

Despite my dreams, and my subconcious making sure that I process all of this, I am improving.

Ideally, I could prepare to start again. My Dr. said to me on Wednesday, "Give yourself time before making any decisions." because I was telling her I was overwhelmed by the financial aspect of all of this. But I replied, "I have to think ahead, it is the only way to get myself through this."

Once there was a woman who longed for a child. She sat in her garden and asked the birds to teach her how to make seeds into jewels. She went to the greatest sorcerer in her land, carrying hands full of rubies....

I Don't Want to Talk About It

People who know me know that I am a talker. A sharer. I am pretty upfront about things, personal and not. Sometimes I wish that weren't true, but it is.

But, I realized today that I do NOT want to talk about this. Not in person, not through phone calls.

Yesterday, my sister in law called me, despite Mr. S having told her not to. She went into a long ramble about all of our options, and even committed the cardinal sin of telling me she knows just how I feel. (she got pregnant recently through IVF and lost a twin early on). I do not think she does know how I feel. Anyway, I just listened and nodded, verbally and mentally, and spaced out a bit, so I wouldn't get too upset.

And I realized that even the best conversation about this subject will look like the following.

concerned person:"poppy, I am so sorry this happened"
me: "Yeah, it sucks"
c.p.:"it is just so unfair."
me: "yeah"
c.p. "I am so sorry."
me: "thanks"

and that is the best it can be!

The worst will be people suggesting my options. Believe me, I have thought around this in 50,000 ways. It is all I think about. Or, they will say we can try again soon and I will have to educate them on male fertility and on why we aren't so lucky as to try in that way.

Anyway. I am actually feeling a bit better today. I am still sad and angry, but I am mobile. I haven't cried once. Three days of intense grieving and almost complete solitude are immensely helpful.

Still, I know my limits, and I know that sympathy will unhinge me and nothing will get me to crying more quickly than said sympathy.

Lost

Thank you for all of your kind words and thoughts. I appreciate them all.

Yesterday, I foolishly decided to go to work, to teach. I thought to myself that it would be better than lying around. The actual teaching was good, I forgot things momentarily. But the travel to and from was terrible, I kept thinking sad thoughts and having to stop myself from getting emotional. On the street, on the metro, driving. On my way to class I worried about breaking down in class(that was when I knew I shouldn't have gone) and I thought 'how will I explain it?' and decided 'I'll tell them there was a death in the family yesterday.' and then I realized it. There was a death. There was a heartbeat, and then there wasn't.

I feel like I am floating. I walk outside, I cross the road, I am surprised each time my foot connects and my stride continues. I think to myself, 'at least you aren't falling down.' I don't quite believe this has happened to us. Two years and seven months of trying to get pregnant, and it is already over.

To attain this pregnancy I went through months of shots, weeks of doctor's appointments, daily monitoring. Thousands of dollars, our own and our siblings. All for nothing. I can't grasp it. Childlishly, I keep thinking 'this isn't fair' and 'this wasn't supposed to happen.'

I don't know where to go from here. Our insurance won't cover anything. We know that we can't get pregnant naturally. And, all I want is to be pregnant again.

I was only pregnant for 3 weeks(knowing, I mean) and I loved it. I felt connected to life, I felt like I was finally continuing on a path I so long to travel. Even having lost it, I am glad I was pregnant.

Now I am stuck again. We are stuck. Mr. S said, "We need to rob a bank." Truly, I don't want to go through more months of shots, etc. But I would. If only it were that easy. Decide to do it, and do it.

It's Over

And just like that, I am not pregnant.

I started cramping last night and had light spotting and got worried, but not too worried, as I know this is a big growing time for the embryo.

But, at 2 am I woke with more cramps and went to the bathroom and passed tissue. At that point I felt pretty sure, but was holding out hope.

I slept terribly. I didn't say anything else(he knew about spotting) to Mr. S, b/c I didn't want to mess with his sleep too. I called my nurse and made an appt. to go in for an emergency ultrasound.

Mr. S already had the day off, as I had planned to take him for a hike. It is his birthday. Worst birthday ever.

We drove, waited. I felt frozen and numb. I was determined not to cry or get too upset, yet, since I knew I could've been passing the twin.

But, there was nothing on the u/s. The Dr. was surprised that it happened so fast. The u/s tech just said, "I am sorry."

Our nurse met with us and kept saying that there was nothing I did to make this happen. They'll test the tissue and let us know what they find. I didn't cry until the blood tech was taking my blood and suddenly I started.

Mr. S and I got ourselves together, went and got food(he had eaten nothing, yet) and drove to a local park to eat and hike some. Coming home, it hit me again. During the day, while we were out, we knew, but it didn't feel fully real, because no one else did.

The odd thing is that I am (currently) no more upset than I was when our IVF failed. Mind you, that is plenty upset, but I am functional, if crying easily. It is strange.

Yesterday afternoon I was my normal, nauseous, pregnant self. Today I am not. I can't fathom how quickly it all changed.

I could go on and on, but I won't, for now.

If you know me IRL, please don't call me for a day or so, and please tell those people you know don't read here, but knew about us. I can't handle telling people, right now.