Pain and joy mingle.
We purchased this year’s tree on a Sunday while John was home for a day. That night, I put the lights on it. The smell of a real Christmas tree is something I love so much that I don’t exactly know how to put it into words. The olfactory sense can trigger some of the strongest sense memories we have, and I think this smell is linked into the magic and joy that laces my memories of Christmas as a child. We never had a fake tree, so when I smelled this smell – a real pine, cedar, or fir – it meant Christmas was coming. And that meant magic, love, and light. It meant my soul would lift and float for awhile.
This year, before we bought our tree, I went in search of something I’ve had in a cabinet all year long. It is a glass spice bottle with a black plastic lid. The glass is very heavy, and the plastic is thick and sturdy. It appeals to me in some way, and so I saved it to use for something when the spice ran out. I had no idea when I put it aside that later I’d be gathering fallen needles to place inside.
Last year, I lost a baby (Davin) right at three months into the pregnancy. It was my second miscarriage of the year and, for many reasons, it throttled me in different and harder ways than had the first one (in April).
I found out on December 9th during a prenatal appointment that he had died. A D&C to remove Davin from my womb was scheduled for December 16th.
I had carried him for a week, knowing he was no longer alive. It was both maddening and oddly comforting. On the one hand, I felt insane knowing he was inside of me and he was not alive; my body was incapable of doing anything to help him. On the other hand, I got to be with him and say goodbye, come to terms with him being removed.
On December 15th, the day before the surgery, I asked John to go get a tree. I didn’t tell him, but I wanted that tree in the house with all 4 of us. That’s how it was supposed to be, and in my fractured state of being, I was going to have it that way, regardless.
When last year’s tree came into our home with all of its wonderful smelling glory my child was still inside of me. The next day, he was all the way gone. I was sedated for some time after that. When the pills ran out there was still wine and liquor. I got tipsy regularly; I ate crappy food. No matter what I ingested, I was empty.
I was empty in more ways than the one that made my uterus ache as it healed.
That tree sat in the living room with me. I watched those lights flash and dance through my bleary eyes. I sat here, numb, with that happy smell. Each day rolled by and I tried whenever I could to enjoy them, even if it was an altered, forced experience.
I cried a lot. I was angry and sad. A lot of days I was just nothing.
The tree was there.
At some time way past Christmas there came a point when I had to admit that the tree was dried out and needed to be taken away. I cried about that, too.
When that tree came into my house, I still had my baby inside of me. Now the tree was about to leave, and I had to keep a part of it, because somehow, it was the last thing I could hold onto about Davin. Is that crazy?
I got down on my hands and knees with that damn spice bottle and I gathered up fallen needles until it was full. Then I put it in one of my kitchen cabinets.
Only a couple of times during the year, when my heart ached the very most for Davin, I went and opened that bottle. I held it, smooth, cool and heavy, in my hand. In my fingers, it felt strong when I felt weak. I stared at the needles. I opened the bottle and smelled.
Pain and joy mingle together in that smell for me now.
Not long before we got our tree this year, I went for that bottle for the first time in quite a while. When I smelled it, I wept for my lost son. The smell was still very strong and crisp. It wrapped me up; it sang to me of both sorrow and delight. Afterwards, I felt a sort of peace.
I put the bottle out as the very first Christmas decoration in our home this year.
I will think of them both every Christmas: the baby who we thought would be born in December 08 as well as the baby who died in December 08. I don’t think I’ll ever smell that happy smell or watch those dancing lights again without a twinge of sorrow. But I believe I will always still smile at them, as well.
Pain and joy mingle together, and that is not such a bad thing to experience, or acknowledge.
It is far better than pain sitting in the heart by itself.
32 comments
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NessWorld
As always, your writing takes us all right to the heart of your feelings, and allows us in to share in your pain. I don’t think that anything that you did (gathering the pine needles/smelling them during the year) is weird, or odd, or insane.
You’re coping. That counts.
Suzanne
Lotus,
I am so sorry for you, John and Braden that your family is missing your other son.
.-= Suzanne´s last blog ..Santa, Can I Have A Maid For Christmas? =-.
Claire in CA, USA
Big hugs and love to you, Lotus. I love that you collected those pine needles. Not weird, at all. I’m so sorry for your loss.
Veronica
xx
Michelle
No, not crazy at all.
Jenni
I have not been following your blog for all that long, so I had no idea you had been through these two traumatic experiences. I am so sorry for your loss– this was a beautifully written post, and I think your idea of saving those pine needles was a great idea.
.-= Jenni´s last blog ..So, let me get this straight… the early bird gets the worm, and the late bird gets a better deal? Pfffft. =-.
rachel-asouthernfairytale
Lotus, the pine needles in the jar… that’s so beautiful.
Hugs.
I love you
Evan
I’m sorry to hear about you loss.
Christina (Apron Strings)
How awful. I had a few early m/c’s and they suck. suck. suck. So, effin horrible.
What a nice way to reflect on a lost pregnancy. (It wasn;t really lost though-taken is more like it, eh?)
Beautiful post.
lceel
<3
.-= lceel´s last blog ..Wordless Wednesday – Solitude =-.
Twitter: lceel
amy2boys
I’m so sorry. I also have carried for week a baby that I had lost – it’s heartbreaking.
The pine needle thing makes perfect sense to me.
I have music I can’t listen to…
.-= amy2boys´s last blog ..Christmas Gift Guide 2009 =-.
Twitter: amy2boys
Jessica
I understand more than words can say. Lots of love this holiday season.
.-= Jessica´s last blog ..Christmas Tree(otherwise known as not my fault) =-.
Rachael
Hugs and prayers for you today. This was painfully beautiful.
.-= Rachael´s last blog ..Baby Pictures! =-.
Twitter: rachael1013
Gabriel
Beautiful, Lotus. Very moving too…
Don’t know what else to say.
.-= Gabriel´s last blog ..Send me a picture of your Christmas tree! =-.
Tara R.
I have no words, and your words were achingly beautiful.
.-= Tara R.´s last blog ..Mother Earth =-.
Twitter: Tara_R
WackyMummy
You’re so strong. I cannot even imagine. So sorry.
.-= WackyMummy´s last blog ..How Did He Grow Up So Fast?! =-.
Bridget
I lost a baby in my second trimester 2 Thanksgivings ago. And this is such a perfect description of how I feel.
Hugs to you. Thanks for writing so beautifully about something so devastating.
.-= Bridget´s last blog ..Stocking Vote =-.
dysfunctional mom
This is so hauntingly beautiful. I wish there was something I could say to take some pain away.
Velvet Verbosity
It is difficult to know what to say to a post like this, but it is equally difficult to say nothing. I am sorry for your loss…I am inspired to read that you are working with the grief, and that you are finding the place where sadness and joy can intermingle.
Thank you for sharing.
maggie, dammit
This is so beautiful.
And not crazy. Not even a little bit.
.-= maggie, dammit´s last blog ..Hope =-.
Deb on the Rocks
Such a tender story and part of you, amazingly told. I feel moved by your words. Peace and love to you Lotus.
Jessia
Sweet girl, my heart aches as I read this. However, I love the fact that you are dealing with your grief. I’ve been dealing with grief in a number of ways, different than yours, but still heavy grief. For me, in the hurting, the gut-wrenching pain, I have been brought closer to My Momma who is no longer here, and closer to God–who at times, still hears my angry, sorrowful words I speak to Him. My Momma passed away unexpectedly during Christmastime, it’s such a hard season for me to handle.
Here’s to honest grief, love, memories,Christmas, and the future. Hugs to you.
Jen D
That was the most moving thing think I have ever read. Thank you for sharing it. Am still crying. I wish you joy this Christmas to help ease the pain.
Sarah
Luvs you.
Twitter: SarahInMI
Bobbie
WOW!! Your post is powerful and I can feel the emotion through it. I hope this Christmas has MUCH more memories for you, and good for you for keeping those needles from the tree! What a wonderful memory!
.-= Bobbie´s last blog ..Dear Internet =-.
Chibi Jeebs
Oh, Lotus.
*big, fat, squishy hugs & lots of love*
Leslie Limon
I was browsing through Networked Blogs and found yours.
I’m glad I did! 15 years ago, I suffered a miscarriage in my 3rd month. Then almost a year later, I found out in my 3rd month that the baby I was carrying was no longer alive. Due to some problems with the hospital/doctor/insurance, I carried my baby for almost a month. It was the most depressing time of my life. The D&C left me emotionally numb. I’m so glad that you are able to find joy again! Blessings to you and your family.
.-= Leslie Limon´s last blog ..The Truth About the Tooth Fairy =-.
bejewell
So holding you in my thoughts right now. Wishing you a very peaceful and lovely holiday this year, darlin’.
.-= bejewell´s last blog ..All I Want for Christmas is This Dildo Helmet =-.
bejewell
(Somehow it seems totally wrong to post a serious, heartfelt comment and then see “Dildo Helmet” after it)
.-= bejewell´s last blog ..All I Want for Christmas is This Dildo Helmet =-.
Amy
As always, when I read what you write, I come away affected. Whether it be funny or tragic, I am always moved. With this post however, it spoke to my heart in so many ways. It brings back memories of the suffering, cause that’s what it is, truly, of my own little one dying. I only have the antiseptic smell of a NICU unit to associate, so for you I am glad. Glad that you have something beloved and pure to remember Davin with. Thank you for writing your blog….you think you are just giving yourself therapy by writing, but your words profoundly affect others. Namely, me.
Amy
As always, when I read what you write, I come away affected. Whether it be funny or tragic, I am always moved. With this post however, it spoke to my heart in so many ways. It brings back memories of the suffering, cause that’s what it is, truly, of my own little one dying. I only have the antiseptic smell of a NICU unit to associate, so for you I am glad. Glad that you have something beloved and pure to remember Davin with. Thank you for writing your blog….you think you are just giving yourself therapy by writing, but your words profoundly affect others. Namely, me.
The first three days. #reverb10 @ i am lotus
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