Empty Arms...

The next morning, I woke up early and was told that I could basically leave after we made arrangements for her. We did know that we wanted an autopsy and then, to have her cremated. As far as funeral or memorial service....I had no clue that we should have something. This was very foreign territory. Territory that should not even exist! I tried to get a hold of my husband but there was no answer, so I waited for a while. I was trying to wait for him to before we had Areila brought to us for our goodbyes. I spoke to my best friend and shared with her my feelings of wanting get away....go to the ocean...take a cruise...something. I really just wanted to run away from myself. I finally asked the nurse to bring her and as she wheeled her in, she broke down crying...sobbing. She told me that Areila was so beautiful and how she had 3 daughters at home...blah, blah, blah. I guess I shouldn't be like that because her tears were sincere but I needed the others to be strong for me. She asked me if I had other children and then asked me if she would see me again in 2 years. I was so damn offended. How dare this bitch ask me this as I was holding my perfect yet dead baby!!! I quickly responded....NO!!! This pregnancy was too difficult....how could we possibly go through this again....I just want my baby to be alive....not another....not a replacement!!! She left me alone with my baby girl, I took a few more pictures and put her cold little hand in mine and tried to take in every little ounce that was her. She had been in the refrigerator all night and was so cold....I felt so damn helpless. I was there, alone, with the perfect little baby....rubbing her hand to make it warm, sobbing and hoping to wake up from the nightmare. I took deep breath and called the funeral home since I had not heard from my husband and things needed to be arranged. It took all I had to make that call and...I was so afraid that when I opened my mouth to speak, nothing would come out. I got through the call and that was taken care of. I just sat, looking at her.....mothering her for the last time.


My husband finally arrived, and finally decided to hold her. I'm so glad that he did.... I was worried that he wouldn't and would live the rest of his life with regrets. He later told me that he was afraid to hold her because he was afraid that once he held her, he would forever be attached and wouldn't want to let her go. I will never ever forget that moment of him holding her, sobbing, and telling her that we had big plans for her. I held her again...I wanted to leave, in hopes that I would go home, go to bed, wakeup and it would have all been a nightmare. Yet, I wanted to stay and be her mother... No one should ever feel so helpless...so hollow. The time had come for us to go.... I put her in her bassinet, kissed her forehead, sat in my wheelchair with empty arms, and left her there. Alone. My husband was told to drive around back and I was wheeled to the back door....because the "dead baby mamas" don't get to show off their new bundles of joy through the front door. I got in the car and sobbed the whole way home...picked up my oldest daughter....we sobbed together....the whole way home.

The feeling of coming home was unimagineable. I just wanted to fold up in a ball and disappear. I asked my husband to put away all the baby things. He forgot to put away her clothes and I'm so glad that he didn't. They're still in the drawers and in the closet....4 months later.

There are so many details to my coming home and having to try to explain to our 3 year old what happened to her baby sister. We basically told her that she was sick so we left her in the hospital. Of course, it took her a while to realize that she was never coming home.... even now, she sometimes speaks about her like she is coming home. My oldest daughter felt just as helpless as I did and every tear I shed, she shed with me. It got to be overwhelming for both of us, and the next day, I thought it was best if she got away from the house. I don't want to tell every detail because I still dont have the words to describe it....nor do I want to risk omitting anything. I'll just describe it as total and complete helplessness and darkness. My heart literally ached, I couldn't breathe and I felt so hollow and disconnected from the world. Stil do...


I was still thinking to myself....what the fuck. This can't be my fucking life.....how did this happen. 4 days....I was 4 days away.... Everytime I looked at my 3yr old, I saw Areila... it was bittersweet, mind-blowing and totally devastating.

The first night, my husband and I went to bed and by bedtime, our 3yr old had crawled into our bed. We both put our hands on her back and fell asleep like that... I woke up feeling more empty. There was no basinet beside the bed, I wasn't woken up by a crying baby....there was just silence. There continues to be just silence every morning. I rise before everyone else....and lay there....thinking about how fucked up life is...and every morning I'm haunted by emptiness and silence. Part of me died with Areila...




My favorite pic of Areila Indigo Aeleane......