addendum

i must say, i really am good.

i also must say, i'm on cymb@lta.

i question whether my state of goodness is coming from a pill, but then i wonder why it matters. is a pill stealing my grief from me? should i be at peace with the fact that i really like being really ok? sometimes i feel like a fraud, other times i feel like i will question feeling good for the rest of my life.

i am not good at feelings. i am good at planning and executing, thinking, philosophizing. i am good at doing. i have done everything i've imagined would be good for me, everything that's arrived on my doorstep as a good character builder or wall tearer-downer. what's left are the feelings. even though i've tried to strategically place myself in situations where i would be forced to feel my grief, i'm unsure and insecure about whether i've still not acknowledged them all.

i can't just put it out there that i'm rainbows and chocolate kisses without also saying that i'm medicated.

i can't just put it out there that i'm medicated and insinuate that i think i'm failing in some way because of it. i needed help and i got a little fucking help.

i can't say i'm not a little conflicted about the whole thing.

i love being really ok. i love having the motivation to keep my house really clean. i love wanting to socialize, and i love the ability to connect with others and have kick-ass nights out again. i love (mostly) only wanting to eat when i'm hungry. i really super love not having a short fuse with my children and husband.

i don't love that i have to take a pill every night to get here, but i imagine, in light of the benefits, that sounds like a dumb thing to worry about.

the guilt, it never ends.

moving on

i received an email this morning from a pregnant deadbaby mama.

when my ivfs failed early this year, i was left with medications i would never again use. some i sent to a very dear friend who is still trying to figure out what the fuck her next move is, and the rest i sent to this mama. she's 20 weeks pregnant with a girl, and the birthday of her lost boy was earlier this month. i'm really so happy for her.

i can't believe how OK i am with leaving all that reproductive bullshit behind me. it's been a long, hard, miserable road. i am thrilled with my alive children and can appreciate paige for all that i've learned from her. i am heartbroken that she's not here, but she's changed me so much and i am so grateful to have had her. i can't change the fact that she's dead, but i can change my life.

i know that my leftover medications were just a small part of the whole process for this mama, but when i read that email, i felt so happy inside that because of paige, i helped her get pregnant. it was a little tiny bit of help, but so what?

i feel so very far out from having a dead baby, two years plus. no other babies to come, just the rest of my life. on to the next phase. the three will begin full-day kindergarten next september and i will...figure out what i'm going to do with myself as more than just a mother of alive triplets and a dead baby. it's thrilling, really.

i haven't had a bad day in such a long time. i'm thankful that i can think of paige and mostly feel heavy gratitude. i really feel that a lot of it has to do with KNOWING and ACCEPTING that i don't want to have any more children; i am done. i know how many children i will ever have, i know that three are alive and one is dead. i know i love them all.

is this it?

quite the playgroup

lighting my candle tonight at 7pm...i'm hoping this weather dies down a bit so i can put it out on the porch to light the night...

paige
callum
maddalena
jessica
LAMB
jacob
the twins
ronan
A
the boys
ferdinand
charlotte
hannah
hope
owen
serenity

in the one life that we've got

Where do we go from here
How do we carry on
I can't get beyond the questions
Clambering for the scraps
In the shatter of the collapsed
It cuts me with every could-have-been

Pain on pain on play, repeating
With the backup makeshift life in waiting

Everybody says that time heals everything
What of the wretched hollow
The endless in-between
Are we just going to wait it out

There's nothing to see here now
turning the sign around
We're closed to the Earth 'til further notice
A stumbling cliché case
Crumpled and puffy-faced
Dead in the stare of a thousand miles

All I want, only one street-level miracle
I'll be an out-and-out, born again from none more cynical

Everybody says that time heals everything
All in the end
What of the wretched hollow
The endless in-between
Are we just going to wait it out

And sit here cold
We’ll be long gone by then
And lackluster in dust we lay
Around old magazines
Fluorescent lighting sets the scene
for all we could and should be being
in the one life that we've got

In the one life that we've got

Everybody says that time heals everything
But what of the wretched hollow
The endless in-between

Are we just going to wait it out
Sit here
Just going to wait it out
Sit here cold
Just going to sweat it out
Wait it out

(holding you and yours in my heart, my friend.)

just like me

she rejected the board's recommendation for suspension. she hired a lawyer and there's going to be a trial.

she doesn't know that there will also be a civil suit filed against her this month. she better be ready to keep that attorney on for a good long while.

for a moment when the investigator told me she didn't accept the suspension, i felt nervous that she would avoid punishment against her license. then i felt, so be it, i can't do anything about the outcome of a trial.

then i felt that i was accomplishing my goal no matter what.

she is suffering.
she is forced to remember.

trash/treasure

isn't relativity funny?

most of us agree that trying to compare loss, which one is better or worse, more painful, is just utterly useless. everyone has their pain to bear and that's it. we all recognize the familiar cycles and waves of grief, we all echo the same pain of babyloss.

i think we all, at some point or another, laughed at ourselves maniacally about what we used to think pain was. we all, at some point, remembered what we used to think our life's traumas were, our worst days, moments, the worst things that ever happened to us. we can laugh, we can find it twistedly and dastardly ridiculous...now. we held our dead babies. what a point of reference.

i was working yesterday at the OB/GYN office. there was a new OB patient in seeing the nurse for her initial consult. at one point, the nurse told the doctor that the new patient would benefit from talking to him. apparently she was very upset about her first birth with another practice in another hospital.

i share an office with the practice manager, who lost her first and second sons to stillbirth. i used to wonder if she heard the heartbeats echoing through the office the same way i did. i used to wonder what it was like for her, being more than 20 years out. one day it hit me: other tragedies in her life became "The Big Ones." it's all relative. even babydeath.

"she's very upset about her first birth," the nurse said.

"they told her the baby died and would be stillborn, and then proceeded to get on top of her and really roughly delivered her; it was shoulder dystocia," the nurse said.

"the baby was born, and they called time of death and everything," the nurse said.

"and then the baby took a breath. and she's got pictures of the baby; she's SO beautiful. can you IMAGINE?" the nurse said.

my friend and i just turned and looked at each other.

"i can totally imagine the first part," i said.

i've been at the OB/GYN office for a year. i've only been slightly moved by the tiny heartbeats, the hugely pregnant, scheduling c-sections, the brand-new newborns. this incident almost made me pass out.

THIS LADY IS CRYING OVER MY FUCKING DREAM COME TRUE. this lady is talking about our collective goddamned wildest dreams come true as the most traumatic event of her life. and i get it, i really do. i used to think having triplets was traumatic. I GET IT.

what it makes me feel is, really, does anything matter?

everything is relative and we are all running around with our pain and our traumas and our bullshit...and one woman's pain is another woman's prize. even in our own lives, we dwell on one pain until another one, one which cuts even deeper than the last, seizes us. and so, does any of it really matter? is any of it as real as we feel it to be? i'm not sure.

am i questioning reality, or myself?

it's been two years since i held her. i feel like i am getting better. i also feel guilty and heartless, and, like my mother says, like a stone. i feel like having her here would be my dream come true, but i also feel her absence and accept it. her absence is a part of my life and although it's there...always there...the lack of desperation about it is startling.

what was worse than losing her?
living without her.

remembering

we used to think this was the worst day.

we used to think this day would make this the hardest week of the year.

we hoped that she wouldn't be born on this tragic day, yet we sometimes hoped she would, so we would have something happy to celebrate.

then she died.

9/9 has overshadowed 9/11 in this house...and 9/11 almost shattered our marriage.

unbelievable.

::::

following are the emails that marc wrote to friends and family about his experiences at ground zero:

9/12/2001
I want to thank all who called and or emailed their concerns about my safety during this catastrophe, i arrived on scene at ground zero at the world trade center about 1030 am right after the towers collapsed........what i witnessed in the next 17 hrs is something i must live with for the rest of my life and pray none of you ever ever have to be a part of in your lifetime. my partner and i pulled 2 people to safety from the rubble and pulled dozens more who were already dead either crushed or burned.....we managed to escape the third building collapse simply on adrenaline alone..........other firefighters and police did not. we were finally ordered to leave and were rushed to a nearby makeshift trauma center at the Chelsea piers and treated for heat exhaustion, smoke inhalation, and shock which we did not even realize we had. our blue uniforms were covered in ash and pulverized concrete turning them white. i thank you again for you concerns......it means more than you know considering how close to death we came today. please pray for my fallen brothers who will number somewhere near 300 and for our firefighting brothers who's loses will almost double that number. i will be working 12 hr shifts from 4pm to 4 am so please bear with me if responses are somewhat delayed for the next couple of days. please give blood if you are in the area and stay out of NYC at all costs.....national guards, and the marines are now stationed to aid us. On a personal note i am absolutely awestruck, speechless, heartbroken, and in denial as to this cowardly act of terrorism......im sure it will set in soon enough, and i dread every minute of it. its late and im physically and emotionally spent.....stick together my friends.

9/13/2001
your words of encouragement have lifted my spirits and and give me more reason and hope to deal with this on a daily basis. today we dug, and sifted and seemed to get nowhere....our efforts were delayed for hours due to possible collapses of three surrounding buildings.......the wait was nothing short of agonizing. for my friends who have tried to call my cell, the phone lines are down and the cell connections are few and far between with very week signals. As far as ground zero is concerned.......there is a constant smoldering of ash and fire with a thick cloud hanging over the site forever......the smell is almost indescribable; a mixture of burning debris and concrete.....and it is everywhere......there are rescue workers everywhere and as we pass each other there is an unspoken meeting of our eyes that seems to explain it all combined with the appearance of our uniforms.....there is not a lot of talking going on as we all seem to know there will be many many bodies coming out of this wreckage with little chance of survivors...how do you begin to accept the loss of what could be 20,000 people? many of us keep looking up hoping we will see those famous towers above us but they never seem to appear......our precinct has become a makeshift headquarters with cops from all over the city assigned to our area stopping in to rest and we have received food donations from very generous local churches and aide groups. a list of names of missing Police Officers has been issued and it is lengthy. we have witnessed firehouses turned into living shrines as new yorkers come to drop off flowers and offer condolences and food. i took some pictures today of the devastation but stopped because i felt wrong doing it. we were told shortly after 11pm that the Police effort in the rescue would be cut drastically and this has torn our hearts out....we must now stand by and keep the area clear and open for all emergency vehicles and try to answer the typical radio calls. our fallen are trapped and buried and we can not even help......i cant even convey how this makes us feel.....the hours are wearing us down physically and our morale is very low. I still cant believe this has happened i just want to help and not leave with the hope of finding someone alive but it gets less and less likely. those brave people on the planes who knew those poor people in the towers who never had a chance. this is a nightmare.

9/16/2001
it is now past 11pm on 9/16/01 and i am finally home after what seems much longer than 4 days. my last shift at work was 46hrs long in which time my partner and i went AWOL from our assignments to continue our digging effort to try to find survivors. we did not find any. the night of the rain storm we worked feverishly through the night with members of the LA County urban rescue team and their search dogs.....the dogs; some trained to find live scents, some trained to find death known as cadaver dogs. we climbed the rubble and followed the dogs and marked spots everywhere they stopped and barked and dug......there were many many spots, each we marked with bright orange tape and i tried to mark as many of the sites with a makeshift cross as well.....materials and size were problematic. we found an 18 wheel truck crushed and pulverized beyond description....it was right at the very edge of the destruction......its occupant no doubt tried in vain to escape the carnage around him and was literally 10 feet from the edge of the debris field......some 4 hrs later after we called in welders, tractors, and a crane we saw what was left of the truck....it had been reduced to inches in some places......the occupant was unrecognizable to the untrained eye. we continued our search and actually found several pieces of the airplanes.....one piece with a portion of the red lettering from American airlines.....the FBI was notified and they sent in a team to remove the debris. An encouraging aspect of our search revealed deep "voids" in the rubble where we hoped we would find some survivors or some bodies........we found neither. it seemed as if we were being punished and we knew we would have to dig til we dropped to find anyone among all of this...... my partner and i managed to navigate the rubble and avoid the still burning fires hidden deep beneath till we found ourselves just a few feet from the still burning remains of the WTC. an eerie twisted, tortured, corner piece....all that was left of tower 2. there was an opening and what appeared to be an extremely large void going straight down for what seemed to be 60-100ft below us was actually the street.......the rubble was that high. we yelled down but no one answered back. the rains came and we were ordered to abandon the search.......during the breaks in the storm we continued but again had to retreat. we holed up for the storm in a corner bar called the ST. Charlies bar on Albany and Carlslyle St. all the windows were blown out, there was no electricity, and the place was covered in dust. this would be our new home for the next few hours. to our amazement there was a makeshift triage center in there along with many firefighters and other cops from the city as well as construction workers. we all shared in a toast to our fallen and voiced our anger and frustration through the night. cars and trucks had been placed on top of each other across the street to make way for equipment. out of nowhere a yellow cab seemed to come alive with its light on and horn blasting......my partner having reached his limit, screamed at the empty, crushed cab and soon others joined in as well. we were all exhausted and frustrated........we knew there would be no survivors and some would never be found or identified........some of the nurses cried, some of the firemen cried.....hell we all cried at one point. morning came and we tried to resume the dig but footing was made impossible by the rain. soon after word came down that this was no longer a search and rescue operation and that all searches would be halted indefinitely.......the big equipment would be brought in to remove the larger debris....our job it seemed was done. defeated, tired, and filthy my partner and i walked back to our precinct in the rain, hoping the wetness would wash away all we had seen.....it did not. we had just 2 short hours to get ready for our next 12 hr shift. we would not be sent back into ground zero again and knew no other cops would as well. from 4pm till 9am the next morning we were posted six blocks away on Broadway......sentenced to watch all the utility trucks, loaders, tractors and endless emergency vehicles head into the zone in a vain attempt to find people. not much was said between us that night, a comfortable silence if you will, a quiet time to remember and reflect. my god there was such destruction and we were helpless to do anything about it. our efforts were in vain, there were no survivors and never will be....those who came out alive were only rescuers who were injured trying to help the others. we knew how this experience would change our lives and how it had brought us closer than ever together.......we shared in each others pain and we never left each others side. our punishment in all of this is to be a survivor and to be forced every single day into remembering what we saw. the outpouring of American pride has never been so great and we witnessed that too. walking down the west side highway to get to the site, the sidewalks were lined 5 deep with well wishers,: women and children, men and grandparents, black, white, chinese and everyone in between....these people cheered us offered us home made food and just wanted to touch us as we walked.......we walked tall, we walked proud, and gave these people reason to believe even in the shadow of the task at hand...... I thank them and i thank you for all of your words of support and encouragement. I couldnt have made it with out you. Someday we will all get together and have a good cry over this and remember those who have fallen and those who are scarred from searching for them. I am home with my wife now and plan to spend every minute i have with her before i go back to work on Tuesday.....Surround yourselves in friends and family and talk about this experience. we will move on, our lives forever changed, our security forever threatened......be proud, we will rebuild. Thank you all again.

9/25/2001
My friends and family, Its now been 14 days since all of our lives changed and we still find ourselves looking for answers and digging out of the destruction. For the first time since 9/11 i went into the portion where the plaza used to be. For those of you who remember it, it was vibrant and full of life with a giant golden globe just behind the north tower. All that remains eerily enough is that golden globe. It has a large dent in it but it still stands, as bright as ever. It is the only thing not destroyed on the entire WTC site. It sits among a sea of twisted girders and wreckage as high as some of the buildings left over. There are rescue workers still combing the site for survivors, but they know as we all do there aren't any. They look like little ants as they criss cross their way over the piles. The dog trainers ask us for our assistance every now and then by posing as "bodies" in the rubble. We will go off so the dogs cant see us, put some of the lighter debris on ourselves and wait for the dogs to find us. This is to alleviate the depression of not finding survivors for the dogs. They get so excited when they find us, its like they are recharged and all they want to do is get back in and find more live ones. The smell coming from the site grows each day. I cant not explain what the smell of death is like, and i definitely cant explain what over 6000 bodies smell like. That's the hardest part to deal with. There are still over 6000 people out there in the rubble, buried so far under our feet we cant even begin to imagine pulling them out for their families. So far the one thing that brings tears to my eyes and those around me is when they find FDNY, NYPD, or Port Authority bodies. Usually they bring a dog in on a part with a strong scent. The workers concentrate their efforts on that site until they find something. If it is a fireman, or cop all work immediately stops. Cranes are shut off and the area becomes very quiet. Men from their respected companies or precincts are called in. A small ceremony is performed right in the middle of all this chaos, and they place the body, or what's left of it on a stretcher. An American flag is handed down making sure everyone touches it and it is draped over the remains. Depending on how deep or far in the body is they'll either hoist it out with a crane or walk it out. Then the hard part comes. It is placed on small police or fire buggy, and all work outside the site comes to a halt. All our hats come off and an aisle of people is made, rescue workers, construction, PD, FD, nurses and anyone around. One of us will call attention and then everyone salutes as the body goes by, the salute is held until they have placed the body in an ambulance and is taken away. I usually begin to loose it at this point as i am in uniform and people are following my lead. I shed tears of pride and tears of sorrow for these men and women who lost their lives here. It is a moving experience, one that was repeated three times the other night as we found an FD, and two Port Authority cops. We have yet to find any NYPD officers that were lost, and it saddens me to think of their families that so desperately want the closure. Maybe soon. Maybe. The work continues round the clock and it seems that i too am working round the clock. Our shifts begin about 4pm and end usually around 7am, putting myself in bed by 830am, only to get up and do it all again. The hours are rough and exhausting but when i get down or really tired i take a walk over to where they have cards and candles set up from the children. I read them and it gives me renewed hope. My friends, please remember this is far from over. Holy War has been declared on us and as soon as we strike at those terrorist bastards, they will come looking for their cowardly payback striking any civilians they deem necessary. There are possibly thousands of them floating around just waiting, so i implore you to remain on your guard and be aware of your surroundings and those around you. If something does happen do not be afraid to fight back. Its funny how before all this, the cause of the month was racial profiling and how terrible and unconstitutional it was. Now we are being told and ordered to profile the Arabs in any instance. Always a knee jerk reaction. Anyway, stay safe my friends, and protect your family and those you love at all costs. If they hit they will come at NYC again so i will be ready as well. Remember those who have fallen in the wake of this tragedy and those who rose above to dig them out and rebuild. We forget all to easily in this country and i pray you never forget and keep the same fire burning in you throughout these trying times. Thank you for letting me express my feelings through writing. My outlets are limited and there is only so much i can place on my wife.
your friend, m.