When Dominic was born by c-section, they placed the epidural too high and I was unable to feel my chest rise and fall as I continued to breathe. It was a frightening experience. But I WANTED to keep breathing-because I wanted to touch this new life coming into the world and into our family.
When the sheriff came to tell us that Dominic had been killed, I was sure that I wasn’t breathing and my heart stopped beating. I wanted to escape the pain that filled my heart, my soul, my bones.
I think most bereaved mothers will tell you they have absolutely NO IDEA how their bodies continue to live and carry this heavy burden. We do it for those still here and because having felt the pain of being left behind, our mama hearts want to spare the ones we love as long as we can. But rest assured, it is a daily struggle to decide that we will go on.
I’m not breathing.
They assure me that I am.
My heartbeat thumps the truth for all to hear.
A welcome wail ushers his life into the spotlight of this wide world.
I’m not breathing.
They assure me that I am.
My lungs draw air against my will and my better judgment.
An anguished cry marks the end of his earthly life.
I am breathing.
My body refusing to keep pace with my broken heart.
november 7, 2014
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For several months after Lucy died I felt that way- shocked that my physical body could hold up under such incredible heart pain. I lost so much weight, my hair fell out in clumps and my heart literally hurt. I almost went to the ER several times for intense chest pain and I understood exactly why someone came up with the phrase “broken heart.”
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I know…there are documented cases of people with no previous heart problems dying of a broken heart. I know that the fact I have living children kept/keeps me in this world. My mind still struggles with daily details. I don’t think I’ll ever be clearly planted in the here and now again.
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