” Since the death instinct exists in the heart of everything that lives, since we suffer from trying to repress it, since everything that lives longs for rest, let us unfasten the ties that bind us to life, let us cultivate our death wish, let us develop it, water it like a plant, let it grow unhindered. Suffering and fear are born from the repression of the death wish. “ – Eugene Ionesco (1909-1994)
This story not only breaks my heart to re-tell. It strengthened a deteriorating bond between a very important someone in my life. Death can bring out and in many different aspects.
October 15, 2008 at 4:00 PM
I woke up from a short nap with my three year old daughter. The sensation I experience in my four months pregnant body with my fourth child was unlike anything I’d ever experienced. Unexplainable, in fact. Slowly, I rose to walk carefully into the bathroom. A soft pain pulsed in my lower back. Nothing unusual to me as my back always hurts due to a degenerating disk in my spine.
I came out of the bathroom. Horrified at a particular symptom I’d noticed. In calling my physician, the nurse seemed unconcerned. My own mother brushed me off in an irritated tone. I knew better. So, I called my fiance at work. He came home quickly with food and the then new movie Iron Man to try and help me relax.
Before watching the movie and eating I noticed a new sensation. One I can only describe as feeling like a suction cup pulling at my body.
Three quarters into the movie, again, a new sensation arose. It didn’t bother me. My abdomen tightened. Being only at the tail end of my first trimester, my abdomen didn’t get hard as it would with a pregnancy in the third trimester. It only squeezed painlessly. After thirty minutes of timing the squeezing feelings, I noted that they came every two minutes and lasted for a minute.
“Todd?” I asked.
“How much gas did you say we had in the car?”
“Not a lot, why?”
“Because, I think I’m having contractions.”
Todd stopped the movie, called my father and told him he needed someone to watch our daughter, who was asleep on the floor.
We hurried to drop her off and raced, literally, to the ER. By then my back fully throbbed.
Once wheeled inside, I told the nurses what was going on. They seemed unfazed. Asking if I’d called my physician. Just as I was going to tell them off, my water broke. Immediately, I freaked. Next thing I knew I was in one of the ER rooms, laying on the bed in hospital garment on the bed, crying hysterically. Everything happened quickly. Fifteen minutes later I gave birth to a deceased fetus. Beautiful and dark featured. Their mouth, hands, and feet just newly formed. I held this child until I was taken into surgery for other complications.
Todd sat next to me when I woke up. Worry plagued his face. He stayed with me the entire night. He’d never done that before with any of the other women he had children with. A very difficult night it was, too. I hemorrhaged four hours after the surgery. My heart stopped the second time I fainted. All I wanted to do was use the restroom. The only person I recognized when my heart started again on its own was Todd. I didn’t even recognize the patterned floor I’d collapsed on.
My husband and my deceased child are my ties that bind. For all that we went through two months before was tested in the loss of our first child together. He is still my tie with my current eight month old son and my two other daughters. I’m glad he was there that night.