Haunted by Heartbreak

Have you ever visited a placed that was claimed to be haunted? Very often it is said that deceased entities will haunt places that are the source of their personal pain and suffering.  Places where traumatic, often violent, acts occurred such as prisons or old gun-slinging towns are said to be extremely haunted.  For whatever reasons, spirits are bound to these places – unable to move ahead and doomed to repeat their fates again and again.

I’m not quite sure if I believe in ghosts per se.  But I think there is something to that particular theory of haunting, because I think haunting can reside in people.  It’s not necessarily a matter of being haunted by a spirit, but by our memories.  I have a few that haunt me.  And when they do, they are vivid and visceral.

One specter is from two years ago today.  The day it was confirmed that Baby M’s heart had stopped beating.  I went to the doctor alone. Hubs was out of town for work.  I had started bleeding the night before.  I was at the doctor’s office before the doors were unlocked.  Even thinking about it brings back the rush of anxiety.  I remember the lighting inside examination room, the crinkle of paper underneath me, the unsettling quiet demeanor of the usually talkative ultrasound technician as she searched in vain for the little flicker of white light that would reassure me that everything was okay, and the sound – the ungodly guttural cry – I made when she told me she could not find it.  The room echoed with it.  It was the sound of my heart breaking.

I’m haunted by this not just on the anniversary of M’s fly-away date, but it also will revisit at the most random times: while watching a commercial that shows a mom cuddling with her toddler, listening to a pregnant woman who is standing in line front me at the coffee shop babble on about her pregnancy while ordering her decaf, or even just driving to work.  The memory shakes me.

I don’t ever want to forget, but I’m hoping that over time the memory will lose its power and the heartbreak will move on.  That it won’t hurt as much or feel as real.  But for now, my heart remains haunted.

2 Comments (+add yours?)

  1. Amy
    Jun 14, 2012 @ 10:56:01

    Hi – very happy to have found your blog this morning. It struck a chord with me – the talk of ghosts and such. Very similar raw, visceral experiences – but the moment you mentioned – when the techs stop the idle chatter, future-mommy talk and brightness to their voice…that’s the moment that gets stuck on the ‘repeat’ button in my mind.

    The shift in the tech’s breathing, tone of voice and immediate lack of eye contact. Suddenly, it’s very important for the tech to intently stare into the machine that, for those of us in the know, morphs into the specter of years of pain on pretty much every level of our lives. That moment. Holy shit. In the moment following, all the people in the room melt away and it was just me and the image on the screen. The small image that ‘was’ something mere minutes ago. It was just me and the little image. All other people were decidedly ‘not me’ in the room – I don’t know really how to articulate the naked aloneness I felt lying there on dry crinkly paper on the table in those moments.

    Three years down the line now, having found all these wonderful blogs – I can begin to re-image the picture in my mind – I reframe my imagine – the bloggers with similar stories are standing around the table with a gentle hand on my leg or hand. Blurry, fuzzy, translucent women of all shapes and sizes fill the room. In remembering that moment – that awful, horrible, suck-ass, soul-changing moment – I can now remember the moment as feeling less alone.

    Thank you for your blog!


  2. Quasi-Momma
    Jun 14, 2012 @ 14:26:32

    Thanks for your comments Amy:

    Unfortunately, it is an experience many women have, but few of us talk about. I’m glad that this makes you feel less alone about your losses, as your comments do the same for me.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: