I heard somewhere that a broken heart can be compared to a piece of paper that has been crumpled. Try as much as you want to make that piece of paper the way it was before, it will never happen. Once you have been hurt by someone or by life, you will never be the way you were before, there is no going back. This is what we call experience, and we either grow from it or not.
We sometimes hear about mothers and fathers losing their children to accidents, diseases, disasters. What a devastating thing to happen to you. Today, I felt it was perhaps time for me to write about my beautiful daughter Vanessa, 7 pounds 2 ounces, perfect baby full of life until she started down the birth canal.
I don’t think I ever wrote about the “incident” because of the difficulty in dealing with the reality. I don’t think I even dealt with it properly yet. She would have turned 38 today and each May 22nd is colored by her memory, that of the day, what could have been and the sadness that engulfs me.
Medical mishap, sorry this happened they said, you can have another one they said, you are young!
“But all I want is her, not another one, all I want is to hold her, cuddle her, take care of her.”
They tried to take her away, to stop me from holding her, to hide her from me. What were they thinking?
They would not let me leave the hospital and in my private room, I would shut the door not to hear the babies being wheeled down the corridor from the nursery to their mothers but I could still hear their cries reminding me my baby would never cry. Some of my friends, the courageous ones, would come to visit and I had to console them.
First thing in the morning, making sure make-up was in place, hair styled and dressed, I made myself look perfect and like I was over the pain already. Maybe if I shut the door of my heart, it wouldn’t hurt so much. I was pretty good at faking it actually. Everyone thought I was really strong. When your world collapses, you need some thing you can control.
But everyday, I woke up to the same nightmare, my little girl was gone. This was difficult to explain to my 20-month-old who had been waiting for the new baby during all these months. I think I didn’t handle this very well.
“Look, mommy is happy, all will be good, don’t worry about anything, let’s play.”
Did I talk about my missing baby with my living baby? Did she worry she would disappear too? I don’t remember what I said, who said what to who in the house, how we imitated normalcy for her. But I must have been dragging my feet with so much unhappiness filling all of me.
Life hurts, it often leaves you like a crumpled piece of paper and unfortunately there is no going back.
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