Wednesday, August 31, 2011

The Rest of the World

I think everyone knows that feeling, whether you are going through something really great and exciting, or something really horrible and sad-- when you re-enter the real world, it seems almost cruel that everything has been working just fine in spite of your happiness or sadness. Sometimes you wish you had a sign on your back saying " I just got back from my honeymoon" or "I just found out I'm pregnant" or "I just pushed out a baby and she died". And of course sometimes you are glad to be anonymous.

I'm still feeling like I'm in a blur of reality. I drive myself home and can't really remember how I got there, or where I parked or when I even stopped for gas? My mind is just elsewhere. But I've decided to ease back in to work. I have always thrived on routine, so I figured having some normalcy back in my life would be a good thing.

I'm a lawyer and I work with criminals who are incarcerated. I don't really have an office, I practically live in a jail all day. It's not as depressing as it used to be, and contrary to popular belief my criminal clients are quite polite and some seem to be amazing people in spite of their bad choices or bad luck.

But of course, many of them are not the best people, and many of them have ruined their lives as well as their entire families lives. Many have children they don't know and many continue to have children they will never raise. Yesterday I was doing my initial client interviews with several clients in a row. I met with one who told me his top priority was to get out of jail so he could see his baby born. Now, understand this is a VERY common wish of my clients. I'd say over 60% of the time my clients tell me they have a baby coming in the next few months and would like to get out to be there (even if they were not there for the children they already have, or even for this woman who is carrying his next child). But of course, after losing my child, this "wish" hit me differently. As I always do, I then asked when the child would be born so we could do some math and see whether it was realistic for him to count on being out for the birth. This client casually answered, December 5th. It was like a knife in my heart. Bremy's due date. I looked at him for a long second and actually thought about telling him about my daughter. Oh, my I'm so glad I didn't. That would have been I brushed it off and continued with my interview, my heart a little heavier. I'd managed to keep my mind off of her for the previous 30 minutes. And there she was. Right back in my mind.

He left and my next cleint walked in. I started our interview . He then mentioned how important it was for him to be out for his son's birth. He had missed his first son's birth because he had been locked up. "Ok, what is the due date?" I asked. "December 5th" he answered. I cocked my head and stared at him. I seriously, honestly thought this was a joke. Did this guy know something? Was he messing with me? He looked back at me, a tear in his eye (he had gotten emotional telling me he'd missed his first son's birth)And of course I realized this guy had no clue I had also been expecting a child on December 5th.

Now, I really just wanted to let it all out and tell him to get over the fact that he mised his son's birth, at least his son lived. And for a few seconds I turned bitter and just wanted to let him have it. He had been selling dope and stealing cars so he missed his son being born. I had been living an honest life and I had to witness my daughter die. My heart turned cold and I just wanted to take it out on him. Ask him if he really appreciated the fact that he would have two children. Let him know not everyone has healthy babies in spite of their horrendous decision making skills. But I didn't. I just went silent, I felt like I was choking. I could barely breath. I acted as though I was furiously taking notes and thinking about his case, but really I was picturing my beautiful girl and having flashbacks of my Dr.'s big brown eyes, feeling my daughter lifeless between my legs, I was hearing the sounds I made, my husband's horrified face, my mom's reaction when she finally made it to the hospital and we had to tell her Bremy was gone. I was reliving the day I lost my daughter. Luckily, I kept the tears in my eyes and was able to finally breath and get back to my client.

The next day I successfully argued for each of them to be released in time for them to see their children be born. On December 5th.

Each day is getting slightly easier, but I'm so tired of these moments. I just want them to go away, I want the painful memories to disappear. I want to feel the way I used to feel. I guess I don't know if I ever will, but I'm growing impatient with myself. I don't want to cry in the car when as sa song comes on or choke up when I see a pregnant woman, or walk by the baby Gap where I bought her first outfit. I just want my brain and my heart to forget.

The rest of the world is still going, and I know my world will slowly grow to a new normal. I just wish I could be at that place already.


  1. Oh Amy I don't know how you do it! My heart breaks for you! I can't imagine coming back to work only to have that date thrown in your face, twice! I'm so sorry, there are no words. I'm praying for you!! :)

  2. I don't have the right words but I just want to send you a huge day at a time....

  3. Amy, you are a very very strong woman and I have been thinking about you often these days. I am sending you lots of love and healing thoughts. Definitely one day at a time...

  4. Everyday, something will strike you. And it'll feel like a strike, sometimes.

    Your daughter will always be with you. No matter what, she's a part of your history.

  5. Amy, Im so sorry! This just breaks my heart. After my sister was killed, I felt the same way, everything reminded me of her, every song on the radio, every silver honda accord, everytime I used my blow dryer or straightner she gave me, everytime my girls would say her name, tears flew and my heart felt like it was breaking all over again. i would flash back to the hospital where the doctor told us she didn't make it. I would picture the accident in my head. And I thought to myself all th time, "when am I going to feel like myself again? When am I going to feel anything but sad again?" and a few months later, I just did. It got less and less painful each day. Not a day goes by that I don't think about her or wish she was here, but it gets easier. I am praying for you and your wonderful husband. I pray for healing of your hearts. Thank you for sharing your heart Amy!

  6. I can only imagine the pain the conversations with these two men brought you. Congrats on being strong and making it through - and then coming to share it with us. You're all in my prayers.