A winter sunset over Loch Raven Reservoir was my gift yesterday after a run with Marita and Rocky. Marita is one of my new Baltimore people, truly unlike anyone I know. Endless energy, sarcasm, love, opinion and food comes from her to me (what do I give her in return?). She has adopted me and it is good, for the most part, as friendships are inevitably complicated. And, well, you know who Rocky is. Our chatter in the woods on January 2nd reinforced where I am not this year...with the Great 8, my girls from college with whom I have celebrated every New Year since 1998. I had thought it would be really difficult to be there this year, without the little bundle I had planned to tote along. I would be a downer, surrounded by happy kids and sleepy babies, full of childless desperation and jealous of my dearest friends. No, this year would be had at home. Incidentally, I had the stomach flu on New Year's Eve and spent the evening with ginger ale in bed, so I'm relieved that big plans were not made.
Jocelyn gave me a great book for Christmas, which I read over the last couple days,
An Exact Replica of a Figment of My Imagination, by Elizabeth McCracken. Unfortunately, these are not the kind of books you send to friends and recommend to co-workers so I'm left to sing their praises in my little blogworld. The author had a stillborn child (nicknamed Pudding) and talks about how difficult it can be to think back to that time:
"Other memories are more troublesome. Here's a length of time, my brain says, and then it stares, it sees an actual
length of time suspended in the air, which then breaks into panels, as in a comic book. Here I am in one panel. I am in the line of danger, but I don't know it, I am living in the past: the past being defined by the fact that Pudding is alive, but not for long. In the next panel, seconds later, something is supposed to intervene. Superman swooping in to -- what? Deliver the baby? ... Superman is supposed to come is all I know, so Pudding will persist.
But Superman never shows. I can see it so clearly. In one panel we are safe and stupid. In the next we're only stupid."
This is how I feel. Three months ago Elise was born. But had something already happened before she was delivered? We now think that's a strong possibility. I hate thinking about that and still, I can't not think about it. It's so hard to think back to the time when we thought all was well, to see how innocent and dumb and blind we were to all that would happen. And then the thoughts creep in, the ones that wonder if we could have changed the outcome. I know they are not healthy or helpful but they come just the same. Don't feel too bad for me, though. I am OK with all of these thoughts and feelings and I know they are part of me and part of working through a great tragedy that may have started right inside me, where she was supposed to be safe. It is impossible not to feel the teensiest bit of blame when I played such a big part in the production.
Anyway, goodbye 2008. It is bittersweet to leave it behind, but mostly sweet. Elise comes with us into the new year along with hope for new life.
