Breaking through the shock

I’m in the moment of the ultrasound without a heartbeat. I knew the second they put the wand on my stomach- I knew he was gone. All else- the cheery technician telling me to look at my son’s profile, the call to the doctor to look for herself, the silence in my hospital room, the ‘I’m sorry’, all of it was distant, was like watching a movie. Like watching the cloud of dust after the towers fell here in NYC.

Some people know that moment only from the movies. (lucky for them). There wasn’t weeping or loud cries of NO like actors do. There is just an earth shattering silence thickly encased in shock. I have no idea if there were actually any tears.

Until today. I found myself back in that moment. I cried for that moment- Tiger’s moment. I heard myself say NO, I saw my hands shaking, I felt my chest vibrating.

And I wanted what you might think I would have asked for that day but didn’t until this morning: I wanted to go back- I wanted to go back to the day before Tiger died and I wanted to save him. I know. But that’s what I wanted. Just my super-mom costume and the power of time travel.

“Have you ever thought about what protects our hearts?
Just a cage of rib bones and other various parts
So it’s fairly simple to cut right through the mess,
And to stop the muscle that makes us confess

And we are so fragile,
And our cracking bones make noise,
And we are just,
Breakable, breakable, breakable girls and boys” – Ingrid Michaelson

2 thoughts on “Breaking through the shock”

  1. I remember the moment – before the monitor – when the technician asked if we had noticed kicking today.. and you said, “actually, no, not really.”

    You said that — and we looked at each other — there was no more technician — there was no more Universe.

    Eventually, as she pointed to the monitor –showing off all of Tiger’s beautiful parts, I manged to squeak out a phrase for both of us… “I wouldn’t mind seeing the heartbeat.”

    I love you my darling — I wish I could send you back — I wish I could send myself back – I would be so different.

  2. Reading this, I was back in the midwife’s office, march 22, the dopler on my huge belly, no noise. All I could say was that ‘the silence was too loud’. I knew what the silence meant.
    Thank you for posting this – it was haunting, and I too wish I had a super-mother suit and some time travel.

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