11 years

I know it's not significant in any way but yesterday, Thanksgiving, was eleven years from when I was with my family keeping our big secret, we were pregnant. I see the photos of my with a goofy grin and I just get nauseated. Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday but yesterday was just rough for me since it was the same date as it was in 1999. Stupid I know but I can't help it sometimes.

Still Sucks

Well, it still sucks. At least I have given up thinking it won't ever won't.
Today was A Walk to Remember. I didn't walk. I attended the memorial part of the service. I kissed Solomon's quilt square and his scrapbook page. And as I stood trying to shelter my candle in the wind, I kept thinking, "my baby died and all I got was this stupid candle." I don't mean to sound cruel, but it just still sucks.

When asked if anyone wanted to speak, I did not go up. I am further down the road of needing to speak about my son and my journey. What I really wanted to do was speak about Tyler Clementi, an 18 year old Rutgers University Student who took his life a few days ago because of the cruelty of others. Tyler was someone's child too. No one should ever have to bury a child.

The Empire State Building

It almost escaped me that today is 'that day' or it used to be what I considered 'that day.' July 28, 2000 is the day I was supposed to give birth to my first beautiful child. But it was not to be how I planned.

I didn't even realize the date until I was in the checkout line at King Kullen this morning. And it would have escaped my psyche altogether if the cashier hadn't handed me back a coupon with an expiration date of yesterday, July 27, 2010. That's when I realized today was 'that day.' Or not.

For years this date held as much significance to me as any other, and those who know me know I keep a mental calendar and can usually recall dates to various events in life, mine and theirs.

July 28 used to stand out in my mind like the Empire State Building, towering over so many of the other dates. But now, ten years later, it's supplanted by far more wonderful dates: Alison's and Adam's birthdates are now the Empire State Buildings in my mental calendar. My joy at having them eclipses this date. I don't feel the grief of this day so strongly any more. I actually feel at peace, for today.

Every Last One

I could not put down Anna Quindlen's latest book, Every Last One. I was completely captivated. It took me a day to read it, starting with snatches of pages early in the morning before anyone was awake. I read on our car ride out to a friends engagement party. En route back I got to the climax and wanted to scream but my husband, children and dad, my fellow passengers, would not have taken my yelling well. I finished by forcing my eyes awake until after midnight. This morning I can still feel the book in me.

I found the most evocative passage on page 200 (the hardcover US edition): "It was not so much I wanted to die; it was just that I could not bear the incessant feeling of being alive." The line was the knockout punch that brought it all home for me.

There was an evening Eric came home from work to find me in the fetal position in our bedroom, gasping for air as I could not control my tears. The pain was ravaging the wound still so new. My understanding that people just didn't get it growing until I felt it would swallow me up. I told Eric I didn't want to die but the idea of living without the baby, for I did not know his name right then, was too much for me - I couldn't do it. I think it was one of the few times in our marriage Eric was actually afraid.

The next line in the book: "And then it occurred to me that I was already dead, that what was left behind was a carapace, like the shells of cicadas we found a few summers ago." This is what Eric knew way before me, that I was gone, the woman he had just wooed and wed and created life with was not there anymore and I know he wondered "where did my wife go?" and that was just the beginning.