Monday, October 04, 2010
Natalie's 7th Angel Day
October 6, 2010: When I posted these photos on Natalie's Angel Day my heart was so sad it was all I could do. My writings wouldn't have made sense to anyone. It would have been a lot of anger, sadness, resentment, and pure exhaustion. So I simply posted these two photos, but now I am going back and sharing my heart a little more collectively.
On Sept 30, 7 years ago I found out that my daughter's heart had stopped working. I was nearly 8 months pregnant and the devastation that followed was too much to even grasp. I walked from my OBGYN to the hospital across the street stunned, numb, and not really noticing cars, buildings or people. It felt like I was floating there. When people go through this situation no one really thinks about what happens between finding out such news and then afterwards. They had to cause labor for me and it took 2 days to have Natalie. I was scared. They did a lot of things to my body that hurt so much I thought I was going to pass out. They withheld the epidural even though I asked for it, and then finally about 5 hours before she was born they decided even though I wasn't "signed" up for it (how was I to know I needed to do that so early?) that they would allow me to have it.
October 2, 2003 3:13AM : Natalie was tiny. She was so frail, but strong. She looked like me! I could see myself in her face, eyes, and nose. All her tiny fingers and toes. I was very drugged up from the epidural and pain, but I remember holding her. I remember not wanting to let go of her. I felt rushed. But in 2003 I didn't have the knowledge I do now since I have been working with Now I Lay Me Down to Sleep as one of their photographers. I should've taken more time. But it was difficult for everyone there, uncomfortable, not quite natural I guess. So I was rushed along. I was put in Labor/Recovery. The hall where all the new babies and Mom's are. I faded in and out of consciousness with the sounds of babies crying all around me. By 10 AM, they were already discharging me. I was wheeled downstairs with only one thing in my hand, a purple box with a picture of Natalie and some cards with her foot prints on them. Tomorrow would be her funeral.
There are years where I feel stronger at such times. And years like this one where I want to run away from this pain.