Ms. Macon is an advice columnist and content writer for radio and television commercials. Catch her on Ask A Bitchface, truly funny truth.
The call I would give anything to never have received
The baby was laying there on the bed beside her father, in the shallow dip between us. Her eyes were following me around as I darted around my bedroom, cursing myself for not doing laundry the night before to ensure that I, in my post baby extra fifteen pounds, would have something for work I could actually button and zip.
I was going to be late again. It was becoming far too frequent for Harry to continue to overlook. It was becoming an issue.
I should have just called Harry right then and said the baby was warm, or the car wouldn’t start, or anything that came to mind, butI didn’t. I threw my one forgiving pair of jeans and one of my husbands sweatshirts on. I covered my 4 day unwashed hair with a beanie and drug my ass into the office, not knowing that this was the day that would change everything in my life moving forward, forever.
I had not been in my office a full hour, and my private line rang. I picked up, and Matt, our friend surfing our couch at the moment, said something I didn’t quite understand. He repeated “are you sitting down?” and my heart iced over immediately. I said “which one, Mattie?”. He said, “the baby”.
I screamed, I remember that, and then everyone was suddenly in my office, trying to make sense of what was happening. Janet, HR and mother of my office, drove me, screaming and begging God for mercy and not to take my baby, the 3 miles to the emergency room.
She and I, 5 days prior
In memory of my daughter, Taylor Rae.
11-30-2001 to 2-19-2002. You were everything I ever got right.
The Chaplain waited alongside us
I should have known. Maybe a part of me did, and I still haven’t reached the part where I recognize where it clicked. They put us in this room, this little enclosed waiting room with the chaplain and several EMT’s. I didn’t know it at the time, but these same EMT’s had tried, and failed, to bring my daughter back to life. Before I knew it, my mother, and then Tylers’ mother, were there. I don’t know who called them. The tiny room started to suffocate me.
The door opened, and a young, attractive man in green scrubs entered. He sat down across from me and said “folks, I’m so sorry-” and I lost it. I was screaming, “shut up, you shut up” and Tyler was grabbing my shoulders and saying “Baby, listen, just listen…” and then I was sitting in a wheelchair and it was moving down the hall.
We were headed for this nurses station, and they all stared at me and nobody smiled, they just stone faced me the whole way down the hall. They all knew who I was. I still to this day hate every single one of them for staring at me that way.
Please change her diaper
We reached the room where they had officially pronounced her. They asked me if I wanted to hold her, and when I tried to hug her to me, they said “oh, be careful!! Watch the tube!” I hadn’t realized there was a tube for air in her throat, so I just gave her back to the nurse.
I remember making her promise me that she would change her diaper. She had a wet diaper, and my daughter had never sat in a wet diaper. I must have told her ten times, “please, please don’t let her sit like that…… Please change her diaper”.
I remember going to the funeral home, and we entered this room of tiny caskets. Little doll sized caskets. I remember thinking I was going to pass out. I leaned on Tyler, and we signed some paperwork. His brother was driving us home, and I just kept repeating “this is the worst day ever”. Tyler just sobbed.
It rained like the entire population of Heaven wept for my baby for days. We sat in the second row at her funeral. The place had people lined out the door. I left in the middle to vomit.
No, Ape, no, you can't!
I left in the middle to vomit
Then, we were out at her grave. Just a few of us, it was still pouring. They had already buried her, my loved ones wouldn’t let me outside until it was over with. I went to my knees in the dirt. They were telling me “no, Ape, no, you can’t”. I guess I tried to take her back.
Later that night, beside Tyler in that darkest of nights, I remember telling Tyler “we could just take this bottle of Xanax and be back with her”. He told me that we couldn’t, that she would be upset with us.
A day or two later, my girl Stacey came with our friend Amie, who was dying of cancer. They cleaned my house, but what they really were doing was removing Taylors things so that I didn’t run into them in the dishes and laundry. They were trying to save my sanity, and I love them so much for that.
Janet and Harry came with food, and money. They tried to take care of everything, but I couldn’t remember what I had taken care of, or I just didn’t care. I kept going to the cemetery and laying on that cold, wet grave, crying.
People came and went. People continued to live. I died that day. I have gone on for another 18 years, but I am already dead. I’m merely sitting around waiting to be pronounced.
© 2019 MsMacon
Kathy Henderson from Pa on December 09, 2019:
This story is guttural truth and so beautifully written. Thank you for the honest portrayal of loss. This allows grief important to healing. Difficult to have one without the other. So, thank you, for this will help many with loss. Often people don't allow others their honest emotions somehow trying to cap it for their own sense of normalcy. But it is necessary to allow the stages of grief. This story does that with perfection.