Sunday, January 8, 2012

Almost Two

This is the day when every minute has historical significance. When I was making curtains, eating chocolate, getting my haircut. We had takeout tacos for dinner. I was having abdominal muscle spasms which I hoped were baby movements. I freaked right the hell out and went to the hospital.

That sonogram.

Two years ago, today, she was dead. Two years ago, tomorrow, she was born. Two years ago, yesterday, was the last day of my blissfully naive life.

The weather this January, so far, has been freakishly warm. Unsettlingly so. It is giving me that nauseating feeling of waiting for the other shoe to drop. Or the other eight feet of snow to drop. The weather two years ago, right now, was blisteringly cold. The night we went to hospital, in fact, was the coldest day that month. And still, while waiting to deliver my dead daughter, I was waiting for that other shoe to drop.

Two years. I look back at my life, then, and am amazed by how far we've come. The milestones are too many to list. But we are a different family. I am a different person, almost entirely.

And yet she is still dead. That stays the same no matter how much we grow.

I am still caught winded by pregnancy announcements, by third babies, by little girls with curly hair and blue eyes and who are two. It stings much less now. The sting is not entirely gone.

Her death has not defined who I am, but it is maybe the most real part of me. It is immoveable, unchangeable; it is woven throughout my speech, my thoughts, every action.

It is all I have of my daughter. And I miss her so very much.


  1. Oh Mary Beth. No words. Many tears.
    Peace and love and light and strength to you and yours on this, the 2nd anniversery of Calla's deathday and tomorrow for her birthday. Candles are burning for you and her. I just wish the flame could bring her back. xxx

  2. I'm stuck on take out tacos and black curls and third children. That and the unmoveable unchangeableness of it all.
    Big hugs, Mary Beth, today, tomorrow, and the winding out that follows.

  3. So, so sorry, Mary Beth. This post is beautiful. Thinking of you and letting you know that Calla will always be remembered. Hugs and love.

  4. Oh Mary Beth. Such beautiful words.

    There it all is. In one perfect sentence. Her death has not defined who I am, but it is maybe the most real part of me.

    It's warm here too. But the winter that Calla was born was freezing here too. It was the winter when I got stuck in the snow, the post that I read for the spoken word blog round up. So awful that I could not reach out of that frosty air and stop this for you, for Calla. I wish I had been able to somehow.

    Remembering your daughter, Calla Valentina. So very loved and so deeply missed xoxo

  5. Calla's memory thrives in your words. I am inspired to be a better mom, wife, daughter, and friend because of you. MB, you're the most honest woman I know. Thank you.

  6. Oh Mary Beth~ 2 years...What is two years? Two years farther away from her perfect face and black curls. Her warm body and baby smell. 2 years away from the first and last time you held her. It is a forever etched in your memory day, just like all births, only with the most, MOST, tragic of all outcomes. I am beyond sorry that you have to remember Calla instead of kiss her. I hate that you must remember her, But I am so incredibly glad that you choose to remember her on your blog with all of us. I know she is your heart, your sweet precious forever baby girl. I am thinking of you and sending my love, Tonight, tomorrow and always.

  7. I'm thinking of you and beautiful Calla. Two years feels like a lifetime and seems like days. I think the weird heat has made this easier on me. The week we lost Aiden was record breaking cold so it doesn't feel like the same time of year to me. I hope the feeling of impending doom leaves quickly and I hope that tomorrow is not too hard for you, you are in my thoughts.

  8. Don't know what you are doing right now.... But I'm thinking of you and sending you a hug and so much love.

  9. God, this post is so beautiful. The idea that the only thing that hasn't changed in the last three years is that she died made my brain flutter in thought. In a good way. Remembering Calla with you, love. Sending love to you. So much of it.

  10. This is a beautiful tribute to your girl. I'm thinking about Calla and you and your whole family. Sending peace and strength to you.

  11. Oh Mary Beth. How I miss her with you.
    So much truth, love and pain in here.

  12. "And yet she is still dead. That stays the same no matter how much we grow."

    And isn't this the hardest part sometimes? Everything changes except the one thing that we deeply wish could be changed.

  13. Beautiful post. Poor sweet Calla. I'm so sorry she isn't here.