Warning: This post is not for the faint of heart. It will make you sad, and will probably frighten you. It's okay if you don't read past this.
Friday marked the second month mark without Georgiana. Oddly enough, despite being immeasurably sad, I felt as if 1% of me was back that day. I realized that day how unbelievably sad it really was. I also realized that on that day, back in March, I felt Georgiana for the last time. I had her with me here on earth, body and soul together, her body within my body, for the last time. This day will forever mean joy and sorrow to me.
Lately I spend a lot of time trying to keep the awful thoughts out of my head. It does give me comfort that my daughter is in heaven, that her happy little soul is with the Savior. A priest told me on Saturday it is the best place for her to be.
My logical self knows that. I can understand that comfort with my logic.
My emotional self has a much harder time with this.
Most likely, Georgiana died from what is called a velamentous cord insertion. The pathologist deemed that there was a placental abruption due to velamentous cord insertion.
For those of you who don't know, a placental abruption is when your placenta tears away from the uterus. This cuts off blood flow and oxygen to the baby.
What does this look like? Blood. Lots of blood when my water broke, and afterwards. I didn't understand anything of what had happened until my water broke. Much more blood when I was in labor. Blood when she was delivered. Much more than there should be. When I saw this the first time, after my water broke, I knew something really wasn't right. The nurse tried to convince me otherwise. I could tell from the feeling in my heart, from the look on my mom's face, that something wasn't right.
Of course, already nothing was right, because my daughter had already died. I already knew that. I had already heard the words from the doctor as she ran the wand over my 38 week swollen belly.
"I'm looking and looking, and I can't find a heartbeat. I'm so sorry."
My heart smashed to the floor.
I started hyperventilating. I couldn't catch my breath.
I heard myself say, "Are you sure? Are you sure?"
She silently turned the ultrasound screen toward me. There was no flutter of her heart, like I had seen before. She was still. She did not move.
I collapsed into Dave. I begged him to stop touching my belly.
Later that day, when Georgiana was born, the doctor, the nurse and my mom looked at her placenta. The cord was inserted on the side of the placenta, not in the middle where it should be. Most likely, the cord pulled the placenta away. There was an area of clotting on the placenta about the size of a baseball, where it had torn away.
When we talked to the doctor later, she said she "couldn't say for sure" this caused Georgiana to die.
I feel pretty certain about it.
Memories of this day are horrific, seared in my mind. Right now I relive them everyday, usually in the morning when I wake up, sometimes at other times when they come into my head unexpectedly. They are in my mind. They are a horrendous pit in my stomach. Sometimes I allow them to play like a film. Sometimes I push them out. Sometimes I have no choice, and they play anyway.
Really, though, the first dark thought that often plays in my head is how angry I feel right now. The focus of the anger changes, but often spotlights on God. How could God have created her, and had a hand in creating her life support system that ended up faulty? How could what He created to give her life also take her life?
Why did this happen to me, to my family? All I wanted was my daughter. I was so ready to be a mother to her--outside the womb. Everything was ready. The dresses, the onesies, the booties, all washed and ready. Her nursery, so perfect, so beautiful, just waiting for her. The swing, the bassinett, her crib. Her beautiful pink dress her Ya Ya gave her for Christmas.
And now, nothing.
I am so angry. So beyond angry. So even beyond rage. There is no word in language for it. It seethes beneath the surface. I try to talk it away, to reason it away, but it doesn't always work right now. The tears are hot and flow like a waterfall, an angry waterfall.
The priest told me all I can do is give the pain and anger to God, and ask Him to transform it. I know that's right. That's all I can do, it is the one thing I can control. So I do it. I offer it to Him. I ask Him to transform it, to turn the anger into more love for daughter. As if it possible to feel more love for her. As it is now, the universe cannot contain it.
I pray. I cry. I scream out loud, and more often scream in my head. I am still angry. I give it to God. I pray to Him for strength, to re-work this path I'm on called life.
It makes no sense to me. None of this.
The second dark thought I have is of her little body in the grave. This one I wish I could stamp out forever. This one comes in my head when I least want it, when I least expect it. In the middle of the dark night, in the middle of a conversation.
I will not visit the cemetery for a long time. Not until I can trust myself not to claw my way to the earth to her little coffin. What would I do if I did claw through the earth? I have no idea.
My body longs to be close to her, even in her death. She is so much a part of me, so much of me has died with her. I am unsure whether that large part of me will ever really come back.
I told my mom this last night, the first time I had said it aloud to anyone. She cried and said she understood, but that I need to remember that her body is just her little temple. That her soul is not there anymore.
I know she is in heaven, with a new heavenly body, more glorious than I could imagine.
I know it does not matter to her now that she is buried in the earth.
But, oh, it matters to me. Her precious body matters so much to me. Her earthly body is still so sacred to me, so, so sacred. So sacred that it's absence, that the thought of it in the ground, is almost too much for me to bear.
The incredibly pervasive evil that surrounded us, especially after we returned to Colorado after her death has gone. Whatever was there has realized it has no souls to take now. We talked to the priest about this too. He was going to come exorcise the evil from our house, and told me to pray a Novena in the meantime.
I started the Novena on a Sunday. I chose St. Joseph because his feast day is March 19th, he is the protector of the Holy Family, and so I knew it was right to ask him to pray for my family, for my baby. I know Georgiana knows him. I was certain he would help us, he would ask God to protect us.
On the second day of the Novena, the evil left.
The evil leaves a pervasive sadness, a grief that cannot be described, a daily terror/pain that I feel certainly destroys me daily, it is so intense.
I am left with thoughts of her in the grave and I have heard "where is your God now?"
I know He is there. I wouldn't have made it over 2 months without Him.
Oh God, I trust in you. I need so much from you right now. I know you will not leave me.