Jazzy Soul
09-07-2005, 09:15 PM
Something I tapped out, I'd appreciate some feedback on it
They say that we are supposed to deal with grief in stages; that total acceptance is just as unhealthy as complete anger and denial. They say it’s normal for a person to feel the way I feel right now, after losing you. It’s ok, they say, to feel hurt and bewildered, to want to believe that this is not happening, or at any rate that it’s not happening to me.
They say it's normal for me to want to trade my life for the one you lost, the one that you should have had but didn’t get a chance to enjoy. I shouldn’t put it out of my mind, and I shouldn’t bottle it all up inside. Instead, I should pay some puffed up doctor a hundred dollars an hour to lie down on his expensive couch and talk about you, how your death makes me feel inside, what I want to do about it. And he’s not even the one who can give me some pills so I can forget about you. fu*k that.
I say the whole thing is bullsh*t. I say that this world was put here to put people in grief. Grief is a sonofabi*ch if you can’t deal with it. It never goes away. You just have to learn to deal with it. And the funny thing about it is, you couldn’t give a good goddamn about how I’m feeling right now. Grief is something for the living. It’s how we cope with loss, and it’s normal.
I have a question: if grief is so fu*king normal then why do I have to pay a doctor to help me get rid of it? Why can’t I go on with my life as it was without you, before I even knew of your existence?
As you grew in me, you grew on me. I’ll admit you were quite a surprise. I thought about killing you myself. I didn’t need this, I was an independent woman on a career path, didn’t need anything holding me down while I was in school, trying to get my education. You needed to wait five years, and then you’d be welcomed into a two parent, double-salary home, complete with nursery and expensive diapers and strollers and cribs and car seats. I’d have you smelling good like milk and baby powder and Johnson’s Baby Shampoo. I’d buy you gold for your wrists and blue bonnets and little hats and shirts and socks. I’d even buy you those cute miniature Jordans for your little, darling, useless feet. No K-mart shoes for my baby.
But you were too early; I didn’t have the time or the means to do for you what I wanted to do just yet. I could barely afford to put gas in my car, what with the prices skyrocketing as they are now. My mom, your grandmamma, pays for my car insurance. I just wanted to go out and have fun, for the first time in fourteen months. Fourteen months; you see how much of a good girl I am? My head is always in the books. Normally I would have been there just the same. But I decided to do something a little different. I dug down in my drawer for the little black book that had become dusty with nonuse.
I had a plan. I’d call him and see if we could get back together, just this once. I knew in my heart that it was a bad idea, but sometimes even adults don’t make the right decisions. I’m not going to lie and act like I know everything, because surely I don’t.
So he came over, and I snuck him in through the sliding glass door in my room and I told him I didn’t have rubbers and that he needed to pull out. He didn’t. Afterwards he gave a shrug and said that I was so tight and it felt so good that he just had to do what he did. I remember that I was just as pissed at him then as I had been when we broke it off fourteen months ago.
Three nervous, nail-biting weeks later, when I was expecting my menses and it didn’t show, I knew you were there, somewhere. At first, I just knew I didn’t want you; you had been a mistake on my part. It was my body, right? I had every right to do with you as I pleased. Like I said, as you grew in me, you grew on me. And with every passing day, no, every passing minute, I knew that I couldn’t do what he wanted me to do with you. I couldn’t do what I wanted to do with you.
I had an epiphany. It went something along the lines of, “No matter what, I’m gonna have my baby and nothing is going to stop me. Nothing is going to stop me from getting my education, either. One way or another we are going to make it.” That’s what I said to you. Do you remember? We were a team and with me and you together nobody could stop us.
So I was really happy, and even though things weren’t going as planned, that you might have to settle for some K-mart items until Mommy finished school, I was slowly coming to terms with that. It might not be the perfect life I envisioned, but somehow we would make it right.
It was one afternoon, during one of those erratic Miami thunderstorms that I lost you. I didn’t see the caution sign. As I stepped into the K-mart they had laid cardboard boxes to soak up the wet from the many feet that entered the store that day. I was very pregnant with you, do you remember? I had on my nice white flip flops. I swear if I’d known it would rain I’d have worn sneakers. I had some white ones that would have gone just as well with my pretty maternity sundress.
I slipped. I tried to hold on to the shopping cart but it wouldn’t hold me. As the wheels rolled away from me I could feel my legs separating, like I was doing a cheerleader split the wrong way. I reached back for the doorjamb but the mechanical thing had already shut; I was too far away. When I fell, I felt the most terrific pain, but I know it couldn’t be anything near what you felt inside of me. I could feel you separate from me, still inside but you couldn’t stay that way for long. You’d have to come out, but it was far too soon! Who knew what would happen to you? Blood was everywhere; I remember seeing it stain my white shorts under my dress and go all over the place. Then, the pain overwhelmed me, and I slept.
When I woke up, I felt much better. I could hear the heart monitor beeping intermittently, so I knew I was alive. But what of you? Where were you? I needed to know this with every fiber in my body, every nuance of my soul. I cried out for you.
The doctor came in, looking very somber. He was followed by my mom, your grandmamma, and him. Your father had the nerve to show up, and it was he who had made this possible. What had happened was all his fault and he knew it; I could see it on his face.
I wanted to know where my baby was. I wanted to know if you had made it through all right, like I seemed to be. The doctor said that you made it, that you had been put on life support, and that this was a “wait and see” situation.
Well, I was overjoyed! I had thought for a moment that you wouldn’t make it, that I’d have to go through this all alone, without you. Whatever energy or nervousness that was keeping me awake seeped from me, and I slept.
When I reawakened, there was a nurse in the room. She looked at me as if she was sorry for me. I couldn’t imagine why she would be; my baby was alive! She left. Minutes later a different doctor appeared through the door. He shared the same look as the nurse had. I asked him what the problem was. He told me some things, something like you had shown great potential, and that you had given them all some hope. He said you did very well for a baby who’d only been in the womb for twenty-nine weeks. But in the end, you didn’t make it. You were dead.
Well this is what I wanted, isn’t it? I mean, in the very beginning, before I talked myself into believing that somehow with my limited knowledge and resources that I could somehow make this work, this is exactly what I wanted. I could finish my education now, and then everything would be fine. I could have another baby and though it wouldn’t be you, it would be someone just like you who would be just as pampered and precious as you would have been.
I shouldn’t have asked for it. I didn’t really know what I wanted; and now I do. What I want is another chance to make things right. You didn’t have to die for me to realize what I had, I already knew. The potential for greatness was right inside of me. I knew that. Why does life have to be so cruel?
They say grief is normal and that it never goes away. I can no longer concentrate on my studies. All I can ever think about is you, and what our lives would have been like had you been here to share yours with me. But you left me here, alone, to face the world, less all of my prior defenses. I’m not angry anymore; and I know that it can happen to anybody, and that it has happened to me. I still wish that I could trade my life for yours, but since that is not possible, all I can do is accept things for what they are. Still, I feel a hole in my heart, a hollow space you left, and it is all I can do to not cry so very much.
They say that we are supposed to deal with grief in stages; that total acceptance is just as unhealthy as complete anger and denial. They say it’s normal for a person to feel the way I feel right now, after losing you. It’s ok, they say, to feel hurt and bewildered, to want to believe that this is not happening, or at any rate that it’s not happening to me.
They say it's normal for me to want to trade my life for the one you lost, the one that you should have had but didn’t get a chance to enjoy. I shouldn’t put it out of my mind, and I shouldn’t bottle it all up inside. Instead, I should pay some puffed up doctor a hundred dollars an hour to lie down on his expensive couch and talk about you, how your death makes me feel inside, what I want to do about it. And he’s not even the one who can give me some pills so I can forget about you. fu*k that.
I say the whole thing is bullsh*t. I say that this world was put here to put people in grief. Grief is a sonofabi*ch if you can’t deal with it. It never goes away. You just have to learn to deal with it. And the funny thing about it is, you couldn’t give a good goddamn about how I’m feeling right now. Grief is something for the living. It’s how we cope with loss, and it’s normal.
I have a question: if grief is so fu*king normal then why do I have to pay a doctor to help me get rid of it? Why can’t I go on with my life as it was without you, before I even knew of your existence?
As you grew in me, you grew on me. I’ll admit you were quite a surprise. I thought about killing you myself. I didn’t need this, I was an independent woman on a career path, didn’t need anything holding me down while I was in school, trying to get my education. You needed to wait five years, and then you’d be welcomed into a two parent, double-salary home, complete with nursery and expensive diapers and strollers and cribs and car seats. I’d have you smelling good like milk and baby powder and Johnson’s Baby Shampoo. I’d buy you gold for your wrists and blue bonnets and little hats and shirts and socks. I’d even buy you those cute miniature Jordans for your little, darling, useless feet. No K-mart shoes for my baby.
But you were too early; I didn’t have the time or the means to do for you what I wanted to do just yet. I could barely afford to put gas in my car, what with the prices skyrocketing as they are now. My mom, your grandmamma, pays for my car insurance. I just wanted to go out and have fun, for the first time in fourteen months. Fourteen months; you see how much of a good girl I am? My head is always in the books. Normally I would have been there just the same. But I decided to do something a little different. I dug down in my drawer for the little black book that had become dusty with nonuse.
I had a plan. I’d call him and see if we could get back together, just this once. I knew in my heart that it was a bad idea, but sometimes even adults don’t make the right decisions. I’m not going to lie and act like I know everything, because surely I don’t.
So he came over, and I snuck him in through the sliding glass door in my room and I told him I didn’t have rubbers and that he needed to pull out. He didn’t. Afterwards he gave a shrug and said that I was so tight and it felt so good that he just had to do what he did. I remember that I was just as pissed at him then as I had been when we broke it off fourteen months ago.
Three nervous, nail-biting weeks later, when I was expecting my menses and it didn’t show, I knew you were there, somewhere. At first, I just knew I didn’t want you; you had been a mistake on my part. It was my body, right? I had every right to do with you as I pleased. Like I said, as you grew in me, you grew on me. And with every passing day, no, every passing minute, I knew that I couldn’t do what he wanted me to do with you. I couldn’t do what I wanted to do with you.
I had an epiphany. It went something along the lines of, “No matter what, I’m gonna have my baby and nothing is going to stop me. Nothing is going to stop me from getting my education, either. One way or another we are going to make it.” That’s what I said to you. Do you remember? We were a team and with me and you together nobody could stop us.
So I was really happy, and even though things weren’t going as planned, that you might have to settle for some K-mart items until Mommy finished school, I was slowly coming to terms with that. It might not be the perfect life I envisioned, but somehow we would make it right.
It was one afternoon, during one of those erratic Miami thunderstorms that I lost you. I didn’t see the caution sign. As I stepped into the K-mart they had laid cardboard boxes to soak up the wet from the many feet that entered the store that day. I was very pregnant with you, do you remember? I had on my nice white flip flops. I swear if I’d known it would rain I’d have worn sneakers. I had some white ones that would have gone just as well with my pretty maternity sundress.
I slipped. I tried to hold on to the shopping cart but it wouldn’t hold me. As the wheels rolled away from me I could feel my legs separating, like I was doing a cheerleader split the wrong way. I reached back for the doorjamb but the mechanical thing had already shut; I was too far away. When I fell, I felt the most terrific pain, but I know it couldn’t be anything near what you felt inside of me. I could feel you separate from me, still inside but you couldn’t stay that way for long. You’d have to come out, but it was far too soon! Who knew what would happen to you? Blood was everywhere; I remember seeing it stain my white shorts under my dress and go all over the place. Then, the pain overwhelmed me, and I slept.
When I woke up, I felt much better. I could hear the heart monitor beeping intermittently, so I knew I was alive. But what of you? Where were you? I needed to know this with every fiber in my body, every nuance of my soul. I cried out for you.
The doctor came in, looking very somber. He was followed by my mom, your grandmamma, and him. Your father had the nerve to show up, and it was he who had made this possible. What had happened was all his fault and he knew it; I could see it on his face.
I wanted to know where my baby was. I wanted to know if you had made it through all right, like I seemed to be. The doctor said that you made it, that you had been put on life support, and that this was a “wait and see” situation.
Well, I was overjoyed! I had thought for a moment that you wouldn’t make it, that I’d have to go through this all alone, without you. Whatever energy or nervousness that was keeping me awake seeped from me, and I slept.
When I reawakened, there was a nurse in the room. She looked at me as if she was sorry for me. I couldn’t imagine why she would be; my baby was alive! She left. Minutes later a different doctor appeared through the door. He shared the same look as the nurse had. I asked him what the problem was. He told me some things, something like you had shown great potential, and that you had given them all some hope. He said you did very well for a baby who’d only been in the womb for twenty-nine weeks. But in the end, you didn’t make it. You were dead.
Well this is what I wanted, isn’t it? I mean, in the very beginning, before I talked myself into believing that somehow with my limited knowledge and resources that I could somehow make this work, this is exactly what I wanted. I could finish my education now, and then everything would be fine. I could have another baby and though it wouldn’t be you, it would be someone just like you who would be just as pampered and precious as you would have been.
I shouldn’t have asked for it. I didn’t really know what I wanted; and now I do. What I want is another chance to make things right. You didn’t have to die for me to realize what I had, I already knew. The potential for greatness was right inside of me. I knew that. Why does life have to be so cruel?
They say grief is normal and that it never goes away. I can no longer concentrate on my studies. All I can ever think about is you, and what our lives would have been like had you been here to share yours with me. But you left me here, alone, to face the world, less all of my prior defenses. I’m not angry anymore; and I know that it can happen to anybody, and that it has happened to me. I still wish that I could trade my life for yours, but since that is not possible, all I can do is accept things for what they are. Still, I feel a hole in my heart, a hollow space you left, and it is all I can do to not cry so very much.