letting the sorrow have its say

A dear friend of mine came up with the phrase that is today's post title. All the e-mails she has sent to me since Anna Clementine died have been pure gold. She isn't a chatty person, but when the occasion calls for it, she says the most extraordinary, beautiful things.

So lately I have been "letting the sorrow have its say." It's a phrase of gentle acceptance. But, oh, it's intense. The joy and the pain, the gratitude and the sadness- they keep a sort of tension going that gives me the energy to get up in the morning and be fully present to my family. Everything around here is peaceful, if a little tentative.

I don't feel angry. If you know me well, this might surprise you. I used to be set on simmer most of the time. During the pregnancy, I experienced healing and gained a new perspective, and now instead of feeling angry, I get to feel sad. If you don't see the improvement there, I suspect you have never been chronically angry. Anger makes a person restless, distracted, and kind of stupid. Sadness I can just sit with. It makes me feel human and normal and I like that. 

Mostly I feel grateful for the time we had with Anna. She brought joy to our whole family. So I'll let the sadness flow over us, and when it has exhausted itself what will remain is Anna alive somehow in the hearts of the living.

This morning I am going to tell you about nuchal cords and true knots. Many of you know that I have been to my share of births, so my experience of having babies is informed by those experiences. I'm grateful for that. So when I knew Clementine was gone, I did wonder if we'd be able to determine the physical explanation. There's no answering the big "Why." The little "why" is that she had a nuchal cord times five and the tightest true knot I've ever seen. In other words, her very long umbilical cord was around her neck five times- tightly- and there was a tight knot in another part of the cord. Now, cords wrapped around necks are fairly common. Sometimes the cord is wrapped around their little chest and they come out looking like tiny crossing guards or miniature Miss America contestants. Sometimes the cord around their neck is tight and you have to clamp it and cut it before the body is born. But sometimes, as for my sweet Anna, there's a true cord complication.

I pushed her out and caught her myself, but then I asked my mom to get the nurse (an angel who deserves her own post). When the nurse came in, I asked her to hand the baby up to me, because I kind of suspected the cord thing and I wanted her to do the unwrapping. She immediately understood this without me having to say anything. But let me tell you, those first couple of minutes holding her, in which I realized that there was a time my baby couldn't get oxygen and I couldn't help her- that was heavy. How I wish I could have saved her. 

So there you go. If you're into asking why, it doesn't get more clear cut than that. And I shouldn't have to write it, but no, it has nothing to do with midwives and home birth. No one could have seen this coming. The doctor and nurses agree with me on this one. Even if we'd had weekly ultrasounds, it could have been minutes too late, or they could easily have missed a tight cord, and weekly ultrasounds aren't standard even for OBs. I guess I get all crispy about this because I feel like it's trendy to see every accident as preventable. Of course that's rubbish, but another way to look at it is that death is not preventable. There's no curing our condition. You and me, we are worm food in the end. And I'm all for accepting that and working with it and keeping it in mind when I get to pondering the big questions.  

On Friday, I noticed how quiet Clementine had become. By Friday night, I knew in my heart what the midwife and then the doctor confirmed the next day- that she was gone. I went into labor in the early hours of Saturday, and she was born at around 11pm Saturday night. We were surrounded by angels then as now.

But I'm exhausted. As soon as I can, I will post the lovely photos we have of her, and share with you the story of her birth.

Everyone has been so very good to us, and we want to express our gratitude for all the care and kindness we have received from our friends. We love you.