August is leaves turning orange, their leaves falling, crumbling with time to the ground.
It's cold, unruly, weather that brings frigid snow and a turning of seasons... here, August might as well already be winter.
To my family it is sadness.
No baby due in August has lived to be born alive.
Sa- was born in August.
My grandmother had Sa- in August. Still born... my grandmother never, ever, forgot Sa-. Even when she was 70 with 11 grown children and over 100 grandchildren/great grandchildren she still missed her Sa-. Of course she did. You never forget your child.
When Sa- was buried, my grandmother, totally grief stricken, went to the cemetery and tried to dig her up. I have never got that image out of my head. I wasn't alive then, but I can see it clearly. Her small 4 foot 11 inch frame digging in the dirt with her bare hands, trying to get her baby back.
My sister lost her Am- in August, at 42 weeks. Her first baby, her only daughter.
I was young, and didn't reach out to her as I should have.
She sat in the nursery for weeks, suffering, alone half the country away.
August is hard for my sister. It's hard for us as a whole.
That was ten years ago this year.
My baby wasn't due in August, but he died.
And even before he died I realized how painful it truly is, before I was even pregnant, I was making plans to do something for my sister this year.
I wrote her a poem, I was going to send her a card...
but now I wonder if she'll take it the wrong way.
I did this before I lost my baby,
but will she think I am only recognizing how painful this year is for her because of how painful it has been for me?
Does that matter?
I don't know.
But I wanted so badly to do something for her this year.
For her and Am-.
My sister would have a beautiful ten year old daughter this year... if Am- had lived.
It seems like such a long time... but it doesn't seem like it was that long ago at all.
Not long ago at all, when a fourteen year old me heard my mother say the baby died.
Am- didn't make it.
And I cried, and understood she was in pain... but I hadn't understand the depth of it.
I think I will send her something this year. Something to show that someone remembers...
Because no one really talks about Am- anymore... they used to...my sister's sons sometimes still do. They remind us that they have a big sister in heaven. From the mouth of babes, I guess is what they say.
No one mentions my baby at all. Not ever.
Just like he never existed.
This post is kind of jumbled with reflecting on outside situations and inside realizations...
but it's more like I'm throwing words up in no coherent order.
Hope you don't mind, if anyone is reading.