Morning Pages: I Only Want Him

(Inner monologue on my dead baby)

What is flaxseed good for again? Just eat it. It won't kill you. It won't save your baby either. I shuffle to the kitchen. Espresso enlightens. The voice is right. Nothing will save him.

He was gone a long time ago—are you still on that? If not born alive: dead from the beginning. He lives in your mind. What’s wrong with my mind? You're missing the point, he was only ever mush. Go on then, make primordial mush live! Isn't that what they say we are anyway—how hard can it be?

The toast pops up, overdone. The baby writhes, underdone. My coffee waits, tepid. I skip the yogurt and flaxseed. I’ve been bantering with demons too long. Talk is all they do. Have I learned nothing? Make the lunches! Feed the dogs! Forget the primordial goo.

I stare. The dumb bird sings. It’s barely dawn. Consider the birds! Do something spritely. Greet the morning, sing a dodo song. At the very least remember etiquette. Disconnected bones and blood mush don’t pair well with predawn lattes sprinkled with cardamom topped with milk froth my husband intends but inconsistently delivers. Each day has enough trouble of its own—cold espresso will do.

I'm not a quid pro quo type. I don’t need lattes in exchange for birthing babies. If there's any demand from me it’s weightier: soul reading. Does he see mine? Bludgeoned with branching capillaries…ink seeping purple, the kind so dark it’s really black. Like all deep down anatomical hues that must be dug up by hand. I'm covered in it—the unseen. Old bruises that never fade yellow. Mush that won’t decay.

He sees me this way: ethereal and weightless. Pale and muted. Lit by white rage soon snuffed out, smoke puffs diffusing through the vents. Up and away. Floating, disparate. A teasing ghost. He’s right about the rage. It comes and goes. Giving way to sobs that break things apart, shockwaves. Seismic and rushing. Water is stronger than rock; I remind myself that much really is true. Movement is life. Stagnant water breeds death.

The dodo is happy. It knows the day will brighten. Take a note from the dodo.

I don't.

I think.

I suss.

Maybe it was church? That quiet room. I didn't mean to sob until I couldn't stop. Where is he??? Then I remembered clearly: it was my fault. All the lifting and the stairs and the green I ignored. All the devils I didn't see. And the ones I saw marionetting my husband and couldn’t cut off or wrangle underfoot. One step behind. Too domesticated to be quick. Chirping sweetly, incoherent. Caged.

Sometimes the best move is stay-put. I should have known that. I know it now.

Too late.

Times up!

Shoulda coulda woulda.

They mock louder.

Why didn't you just say no. Stay home. Let him go alone to rustic cabins. I was in no state. Flattened out on cold floor with a toddler, a cuddler, and a nonstop talker. My girls. All weekend, a squirmy pile on hard ground. Women in one cabin. Men in another. He was with the boys. His boys. He was always with the boys.

What about my boy?

He had his dad’s eyes… little black eggs in anatomy soup. Faintly I hear the roar of a plane, his plane ascending. On metal wings. Defying gravity while I'm stuck on the ground. Clipped.

Should I wrap him up, take him in, have them put him back together? Get to the bottom of this? Sweating, asking no one. What for? Science?! No thanks. Science is dead to me. Exposed. No soul. They have no grubby right to whatever this is. He is mine however formless and quiet—no song to sing.

I cannot sit at the table without wanting to set an extra plate. A void. He would easily eat on plates now. Scratching his fork against ceramic. Piercing our ears. Chasing the birds with his eyes. Wiggling to fly out the door. Warbling himself free. Thank God we moved so no one knows, though crassly they lament their four plus kids…be glad you just have three. I want to scream!

There were four!!

There are four!!!

Don't you see?!

They don't see. There's nothing there to see but sunken cheeks and flitting eyes. I nod and say nothing. A bad habit. They presume too much; I presume too much and blacklist most of them. Blacklist the whole town, the entire state. Let me out of here!!! No wings. I don’t want new friends. I don’t want more people. I only want him.

Devils be damned.