One Month Later

 

So, here it is. One month beyond giving birth to death.

It seems impossible that already a month has passed -- that only a month has passed. Is it December? Life stood still on the birthday of my daughter on November 20, two days after she died.

We got our autopsy results this week. Nothing was discovered, nothing could be named as the cause. She's perfect, my nurses and doctor kept saying after she left my body. Perfect, except for being dead.

The lack of cause is frustrating, but also encouraging. It means that nothing could have been done, that there was no way to predict this -- and, God willing, that there is no reason why it should happen again.

Not to us, please. Not again.

Every day is filled with a thousand tiny reminders of what we've lost, a thousand opportunities to feel physical pain at the refreshing of grief. Invisible knife wounds in my chest, my stomach, again and again and again. I don't know why I don't bleed.

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