With You I'm Born Again

Come bring me your softness.
Comfort me through all this madness.
Lying safe within your arms, I'm born again.
Come give me your sweetness.
Now there's you, there is no weakness.
Lying safe within your arms, I'm born again.

--“With You I'm Born Again,” Billy Preston & Syreeta

Days 7 and 8 postpartum. I started filling out my maternity leave paperwork, but I’m so confused; how long is one entitled to take off work for a stillbirth, when there is no baby to “bond” with? 

My OB wanted to give me 4 weeks paid off work. I thought about having to come back right after I’ve managed to arrange Thi’s funeral. Of staring lifelessly at my computer screen. Of eating lunch alone where once I shared a meal with her growing secretly in my belly. It’s not enough time to mourn and mentally recover, so I pushed for 6 weeks off.

I think about birth, a different kind. My son turns two tomorrow. These last few weeks, I haven’t thought much about him growing, changing, aging. I relive a hospital stay during a better time, giving birth to a fullterm, live baby who turned a healthy red with his first newborn cries, who kicked and thrashed and flailed his limbs to earn an Apgar score of 9. My emotions are at war—joy for the one that made it, sorrow for the one that didn’t, ineffable love for them both.

Luc, on his birth day