Don't Dream It's Over, Part 1

The little blue candle

Is unbroken

I measure it

By my fingers

The waitress gave us two that night

Pink and blue

So we’d have a keepsake

Either way

I talk to my tummy

While Leroy walks around

To open my door

“I wish you had stayed

I wish I was taking you home with me

No matter how small”

My silent darling

Just this morning I woke up

Full

Full of hope

Plans

A bump to hide

And yet

Ominously

Not nauseated

I shrugged it off

So many things to do

How could I not have stopped

How could I not

Have felt the change

Just hours ago

I was eager

Eager to see that flashing beat again

Eager for a better picture

For an instagram post

Announcing our happiness

Expectantly

I had rolled my glance

From the ceiling

To his face

Then

Everything went wrong

He stares at the monitor silently

“What is it?”

I ask

Almost only

To break the sudden

Asphyxiation

Of silence

“Kathryn, sweetheart, there’s no heartbeat.”

The words don’t fall

Like bricks

They shred

Like shrapnel

Sharp and precise and despicable

Permanent

I will never excise them

They thud into place

Notched into my marrow

He’s gone

No heartbeat

My baby

Our baby

Is gone

Like a picture

Accidentally erased

I ask if he’s sure

While I stare at the black and white cradle

Of my once flickering womb

My question

Comes back

To strap itself

Across my chest

Like a straight jacket

It’s over

It’s over

It’s over

This can’t be happening

This has happened

Then I break

The room softly empties

Of everything

Except my tears

The quiet monitor

And

The suddenly palpable

Presence of the Lord

So strong

So immediate

As my dreams crumble

An inexplicable peace settles on me

Like perfume

I can hear a small whisper in my weeping heart

“Child. I am here.”

No explanations

No apologies

Just

“You’re not alone.”

As a person

Who has met with grief

A time or two

The kind of grief

That unwinds you

Slowly and maliciously

Thread by thread

I recognize this moment

The moment you choose

To place your hand

Into the hand of Providence

Or the moment you choose

To go ahead and sink

To be mastered by tragedy

I have chosen the long dark fall

At least once before

In this moment

In spite of all the suffocating pain I feel

In spite of the siren of self pity

In spite of the anger and shock

I choose His hand

And I straighten my back

“I will stay. I don’t have to understand. I will stay.”

Eventually I am sitting

In my Doctor’s office

Surrounded by pictures of babies

He explains my options

With great sympathy

He delivered my last child

He is exceedingly gentle with my pain

Talks like he’s holding

A cup of scalding water

I bled so much with Glory

He is hesitant to let me “pass”

The baby by myself

I could hemorrhage

He reassures me

Nothing is my fault

This is common

All the time

This happens

Women just mostly

Never talk about it

He schedules

A DNC at 5pm

For that same day

An outpatient operation

I make it back into my coat

Standing dumbly outside

In the cold

All I can think is

“I was supposed to get a picture today.”

But I saw him

Resting on the screen

So still

I will never unsee that stillness

Climb into the van

And realize

Even though it’s just his body

The time I get to keep him

Is rapidly closing

Just a few more hours

I talk to him

Just like I have done

Everyday

Since I saw the line on the stick

It was so bright

So strong

My voice cracks

“I’m sorry little lamb.

I would have come to look just for you.

Always.

I always would have come”

Maybe he was never meant to stay

He was quieter in my body

Than his sisters

But I could still feel him

A sovereign soul

Occupying my heart

Eventually

I cry to My Love

On the phone

The shock in his voice

Is strangely comforting

I’m instructed to come right home

Or to stay right there

If I don’t think I can drive

I say that I can

I cry

With Joni

On the drive back

Wish for a River

Strong enough to skate on

I cry

Back home

While I change out of maternity leggings

Into regular loose pants

Leroy arrives

I hear him come in

HIs parents were already here

Watching the girls

Without seeing

I know he waits for no condolences

He’s looking only for me

I hear his long strides down the hall

Pause and wait

For my favorite arms and shoulders

The divine chest

That houses that magnificent heart

He scoops me up

Like snow

Into kisses

Into assurance and peace

From that moment

He always has his hand on me

Just the sight of his face

Reminds me of the miracle of our meeting

The miracles we have already been blessed with

The miracles that are yet to be

Before long

We are sitting in vinyl chairs

With Health magazines

People with coughs

Relatives and wheel chairs

These moments

Feel sacred

And tremulous

Like a dream

You try to remember

After waking

A former president’s funeral

Drones on the TV

I try not to remember the last times

I left this exact same building

With a bundle of life and joy

They will call my name soon

Soon the gas will come through the vents

Soon he’ll be memory

The candle will go into a drawer

Never to be lit

No birthdays

No cake

No firsts

I’m nervous

About the amount of pain I feel

About the amount of crying

People won’t understand

They will say it’s too much

It seems to be dripping from my pores

He was too small

I didn’t know him

I can have more children

But I knew him

I knew all he might

What he might love

What he might say

How he might feel in my arms

What his hair

Might smell like

Other children

Won’t overwrite

The one I have lost

My hand instinctively rests on my stomach

Soothing no one

I feel vulnerable

A cavernous

Impending

Empty

Threatening

To bring this day

To it’s conclusion

I’m not ready

To wake up plain

Alone in my body

I fold the tissue into

Ceremonious squares

Like flags for a soldier

I have cried for hours

Eventually

They take my blood

Check all the boxes

I answer

The same questions over and over

Kathryn Petras

5/16/80

A DNC

While they buzz around me

I consider

The small unseen arrogance

That existed in my life

I have suffered so many other things

In life

So in this

This one pain

I will be spared

My reckoning comes

Like a dunking tank

At the cruelest fair

Sputtering in water

That until a few hours ago

I didn’t know was underneath me

People keep saying

It happens all the time

That it’s really quite common

It’s not common

When it happens to you

Every time someone says it

I feel the long leeching fingers

Of bitterness

I could let this ruin my heart

I could let this wound

Keep me wounded

But I won’t

I won’t

I won’t

I won’t

I will grieve

But I will not be conquered

We wait in pre-op

I’m wrapped in paper

No ring

No necklace

I frantically search for a lullaby to hum

One that could belong just to him

I settle

For our family favorite

Edelweiss

Everyone who comes with a needle

Is bad at that part of their job

I’m strangely relieved by the pain

Something to attach

This inner agony to

My anesthesia nurse is the first

And only one

Who leans in quietly to ask

As she bruises my hand and fumbles with my IV

“How far along were you?”

I tell her

It’s like saying his name

Her head drops

She pats my shoulder

Visibly moved

“I’m so sorry Honey.

I’m so so sorry.”

I will never forget her for that

I make a mental note

To be that kind of person

For the rest of my life

As the finish line draws near

Someone appears with my

Fist dose

Of sleep

I cling to Leroy for a moment

Try to cover myself with as much of him as I can

Through my tears

I say something ridiculous

Like

“I don’t want them to take him”

He strokes my hair and says

“Oh baby. He’s gone.

This is all to make you healthy again.

Let’s just focus on getting you healthy.”

I resign myself

To healing

Recovery

My two wonderful

Healthy daughters

In the operating room

It comes into my mind

That his heart must have stopped

In the night

While I slept

The evening before

December 3rd

It’s a small comfort

He was only ever safe

In my body

Only ever loved and warm

I wake up in recovery

Crying for them to bring me my baby

The nurse reminds me

Places a stern hand on my chest

To keep me in my bed

Then I beg for Leroy

We have to wait for more medicine

My nurses name is Emily

I force her to play videos on her phone

Of My love

Our Emily

And our Uncle Jones

Singing

Their voices

Are the choir that calms me

I drink some Sprite

Soon Leroy is allowed to come back

He’s seen the Doctor

Everything went perfectly

He helps me back into my clothes

Papers are signed

Prescriptions are given

We go home alone

In spite of the medicine

I can’t stay asleep

Nightmares

Of wandering hospital hallways

Cries I can’t answer

Drawers I can’t open

Things I can’t mend

Before the sun is up

I step into the shower

Wash away the hospital smell

The sticky squares on my skin

My mind begins to sing

From Glory’s favorite

Winnie the Pooh

“And the rain rain rain

Came down down down

And the rain rain rain

Came down”

Maybe he would have liked that song

Maybe those would be

The softly chanted words

Before laying him in his bed

I emerge dripping

In front of the mirror

Go ahead and douse myself

In the oil

I was saving for when my stomach got really big

It smells like flowers

Aptly named

Holi Oil

I think of frankincense and myrrh

And how even cats

Get decent burials

I make hot tea

Instead of coffee

No breakfast

The house is still

I settle into my morning chair

Stare out into the grey sky

Wait for sunrise

And for my children

The Christmas lights on the tree

Seem somber

My nails are already

Beginning to break

December 4th is

Just the 4 of us

“And the rain rain rain

Came

Down

Down

Down

And the rain

Rain

Rain

Came down”

Kat Petras6 Comments