Wednesday, September 29, 2010

Things That Go Bump in My Head

I am afraid of October.

Not always, not every year. Just this year.

I am not afraid of witches.
I am not afraid of haunted houses.
I am not afraid of the dark.
I am not afraid of spiders (although I don't really prefer them, either).
I am not afraid of ghosts.

I am, this year, afraid of Halloween. Because Halloween is only days, less than a week before the doctors talk about amnio.centesis, of induction.

I am afraid he won't make it until then.
I am afraid of 35 weeks and 3 days.
I am afraid of 35 weeks and 4 days.
I am afraid of living the rest of my life like this.
I am afraid of living the rest of my life without my baby.
I am afraid of living the rest of my life without two babies.

A life ruled by fear is shit, let me tell you. Despite all the other good things that happen, that I have, the pervasive, underlying fear is like an anchor, drowning me.

My quiet joy it sitting alone, feeling this baby move. I could do it for days, weeks without end. As long as it doesn't end.

I am afraid of feeling that feeling again; the quiet stillness inside my body.
I am afraid he'll stop kicking.

I'm afraid of saying anything out loud.
I'm afraid my worst fears will come true.


  1. Mary Beth, this is an extremely moving and beautifully written post. I ache for you.


  2. Hang in there - you are getting so close. I can't imagine NOT being terribly afraid in these circumstances and I dearly wish I could tell you everything will be alright. All I can say is that I will virtually hold your hand, and hold my breath, while you wait.

  3. Oh Mary Beth. This brought back such vivid memories for me. It is hard to put in to words how utterly terrifying the end of a pregnancy after loss is, but you have done it perfectly here.
    Nothing I can really say to make this better, but keep rejoicing in those quiet moments with the kicks. Anyone who has had a baby go from kicking to still knows just how precious those moments are.
    He's coming.

  4. I am so sorry, I know there is nothing to make this easier. Thinking of you and imagining the moment they pull him from your body and put him in your arms - crying and kicking.

  5. I too have such a blog, it begin two months ago at the death of my daughter; it helps during the daylight hours, but when all is quiet during the night, we "think". All my heart goes out to you, I hope all mothers who have had such a loss will help carry your heavy load through their own hearts.

  6. I think of you each day. All the "hang in there" speech in the world, won't help the circuit of worry that you are trying to control, I know. Am thinking of you.

  7. I hated those feelings too. But I figured bad luck had already given me the finger, so I gave it right back and swept bad mojo and feng shui to the wind: I just up and said "the baby could die." At least I knew I wouldn't be surprised.

    Hang tough. It's just an endless waiting game now. Sometimes I feel like I'm still exhaling.

    (P.S. I would've emailed you re: the comment on my blog, but I can't find your email? Anyway, . . . . You're Good.)

  8. i cannot imagine the fear, i am so sorry for your loss of calla.

    your posts are a reminder to cherish life; thank you.

    love and kindness for your family,