Me!
Oh don’t look so surprised.
I’ve been trying to write about this for the past ten days. In fact I’m not that enthusiastic over writing it now. I think if I put down it on paper/computer/blog it’ll become a glaring reality, where as chattering about it still allows for that hint of denial.
I’ll do it Mañana
This has been my decree for the past couple months over calling Gigi. My excuses are numerous: I don’t wanna talk to George (as I assume he’s cranky) and I certainly don’t want to talk to bipolar Mother-in-law – I don’t that really requires an explanation. But not a day, or sometimes hour, goes by where I worry about Gigi and the baby’s health.
I’ve had dreams where the new baby girl is born and she’s perfect. I even dreamt that I called Gigi and she told me that she understood, it’s ok and we can just move on.
The baby’s due in February. About a week ago I asked Mother if she’d been checking the announcements from the newspaper back there which just happens to be online. She said no and I got crabby.
ME: You macabre bitch, you check the obituaries daily. Why aren’t you checking the birth announcements?
That’s whatcha call transference.
She did pour over the archives and found no mention.
Nana was born six weeks premature, but just fine now. Have I mentioned what a smart and crafty lil fart she is? However during Gigi’s pregnancy with Nana, she never once had a seizure. Fortunately Gigi’s case of epilepsy isn’t as severe as others who suffer weekly or debilitating daily seizures, and have to don a helmet to protect themselves. While stress isn’t a culprit it can certainly exacerbate the condition.
When I was ignoring Gigi’s calls she wasn’t looking for the money; she was afraid I’d taken a bunch of pills and OD’d. After all, she was on the phone with me the whole time the therapist’s drama was taking place, and of course afterwards when I was sobbing on the phone. She talked me out of taking a bunch of pills and going to a nearby bar and also asked me to please stop crying, otherwise she’d have to hop a plane to beat up the guy.
This pregnancy she’s suffered a few seizures. It occurred to me a couple weeks ago that women have miscarriages at seven months. When I relayed this to Mother she’d already thought of it as well and had been checking the obits. But it’s up to the parents whether they want to name the child and bury her. Of course then something else occurred to me a few days ago which I haven’t shared with Mom: Funerals, burial plots and even tiny lil coffins cost money. The fact that it indeed cost money to die is high on my lists of stupidities. They couldn’t possibly afford that, and if so; what happens to that lil baby girl?
I remember when Allie died and they asked me whether I’d like a private cremation. A non-private cremation is a bunch of dead cats tossed into an incinerator together. What happens if parents choose not to or can’t afford a burial for their child who never experienced a moment of life outside their Mother’s womb? Do they, as they say, dispose of the body? Does that mean a lifeless baby girl gets dumped along with the day’s garbage into the incinerator?
