Saturday, August 28, 2010

And with the water, my heart

There are peaches growing on the neighbor's tree. All these years and I hadn't noticed them, but today they are there: plump and golden-bottomed. I can't imagine that they're sweet. Brooklyn peaches--who ever heard of such a thing?

But still I want them. If I close my eyes, I can smell them. Close them a bit longer, and I can maybe even taste them.

I also see: a blue ribbon tied to the sliding glass door, a glass of iced coconut juice, a ring on the wood beneath the glass, a vase with flowers, the ceiling fan going forever around. All this from my bed, where I've been two days now on doctor's orders.

Wednesday night it rained so hard, raining and raining, and the sliding door was open, and I was dreaming of all the rain falling, and it was falling still. At almost dawn, I woke up, and I knew my water had broken. All that wild rain. Broken. Water.

We had just found out that I'm carrying a boy, have been carrying him for twenty weeks; found out that he has a strong spine and two beautiful femurs and a perfect brain, and then this: this which has me laid up in bed begging for prayers.

Outside now, the sun is starting to set. Nights, I've found, are hardest, especially after Eva has gone to bed, and I don't have her laughter to make me forget. Or make me remember. To accompany me. To calm me.

Rain on glass. A late summer storm. Clouds moving in and away and in again. The smell of peaches, the pinking of the sky. Send love our way. Send love. Love.

11 comments:

Amanda said...

Beautifully written. Sending lots of love and prayers your way.

Richard Hefner said...

Keep believing, and keep writing. We're praying for you and the baby.

pennedpebbles said...

Beautiful words! I'll be praying!

Linda said...

heart rending words. My thoughts and prayers turn to you and him countless times a day.

Author said...

i'm shooting all the love and hope i have you and the bean's way.

Jade said...

Love. Prayers. Love, again.

miriamrose@gmail.com said...

I'm thinking of you, Nicole, and sending all my love your way.
Love!, Miriam

Zoe Ryder White said...

love, love and more love, dear friend. soon.

Richard Hefner said...

Nicole... It's been almost two weeks ago now that you first wrote this blog entry. I've been back to your blog every day since then and the first words I see are "And with the water, my heart." I know that when your water broke, your heart broke also, and so did mine. And every day I read it again, my heart breaks again, not just for the baby, but also for you. I know there is no bond in the world closer than between a mother and her unborn child, and no fate more cruel than losing your baby boy on the very day you found out that he was a boy.

It's impossible for us to know why some things happen or to know the mind of God. It was within just a day or two after this happened that you posted (on Facebook) that amazing photo of Eva looking like an angel with her eyes pointed to the sky, as if she was speaking directly to God. Maybe it was just a coincidence, but I believe it was more than that. I could just picture her saying something like, "God, please take care of my little brother. He's coming to live with you." And I can imagine God saying back to her, "Your brother is precious to me, and he will be one of my angels, and he will watch over you and your family until one day when you are all reunited in heaven."

I have faith that God is good. The Bible says that "Faith is the substance of things hoped for; the evidence of things not seen." By faith I believe you and Cody and Eva have a very special angel watching over you.

This is a time for mourning for all of our family, and especially you, but remember that Bible verse that says, "There's a time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and a time to dance." I hope and pray that your mourning turns to dancing as you give voice to that tiny angel as he in turn gives you comfort and inspiration.

Never give up hope. Never stop believing. Never stop having faith.

Nicole Callihan said...

Thank you, everyone, especially you, dad, for those last words. As I think most of you know, we lost the sweet baby. Or perhaps "lose" is the wrong word, but he won't be here on this earth with us. Thank you for the continued love and support. We truly appreciate it.

M.O.T.B said...

I am terribly sorry. Your father's words made me cry as did yours.