If Only For A Moment

On Monday, August 16, 2010, we sat silently, like stone statues, in our assigned seats at the Civic Center Music Hall. The music seemed to be playing in the background while we sat staring straight ahead through the dense smoke-filled air. We were lost in our own separate thoughts. I had gone mad and was trying desperately not to jump up and run screaming from the building while tearing my clothes and gnashing my teeth. Every few moments, tears would drain from my eyes, uninvited, and every minute I would fight to keep more from falling - trying with all my might to keep from looking next to me at my husband, fearing just the sight of him would soften my spirit just enough to usher me into hysterics.
My heart was breaking into little pieces - never to be reassembled as it had been before. I was forever changed and my soul was screaming out to God in anger, pain, confusion, and disappointment - pleading for an answer to why this was happening after everything we had endured the previous six months. I needed the peace that passes all understanding to invade my body and drench my spirit, but it would not come so soon.
How was I to know a month earlier, that the tickets I was purchasing would be our admission to a concert scheduled on the same day we found out the baby that was growing inside me had died? And, a few days from this moment, I would miscarry and excrete the flesh of the baby that we would never meet in this life.
I had always wanted to see Norah Jones live in concert since a lot of her early hits held sentimental meaning in our relationship. But, the news I received earlier that day latched a gray cloud to my heart and the only thing I could do was try to keep from crying.
My doctor called me that afternoon, when I was at work, and informed me that he had received the test results from the blood draw I had done that morning. He apologized and said that I was no longer pregnant and my hormone levels proved that the baby had died and I would start my period within the week. He went in to why he thought this had happened and so on, but I was too busy crying, so hysterically that I wasn't breathing. I didn't hear anything he was saying and he didn't even know I was crying until he asked if I was alright. I whimpered a "yea." He apologized again and asked that I call the clinic on the day I started bleeding. Immediately, I emailed my supervisor and told him what had happened and that I couldn't stay at work another minute. I was about to shut down my computer when he replied and said he was sorry and that he would see me in the morning.
 I ran from the building in tears and drove home crying and yelling as loud as my lungs would sustain me. God surely could hear me. And, as I had mentioned in the earlier post, Timing Is Everything, the song "Blessings" began to play on the radio. The lyrics immediately calmed my spirit and eased my pain.
I called Chad as soon as I got home and told him what happened and that I needed him to come home. He arrived twenty minutes later and he asked about the details and what the doctor said. I was a sloppy, swollen mess and he sat in silence with no outward emotion. We discussed whether or not to go to the concert. After much deliberation, we decided to go with the possibility that it may distract us from this horrible news. After we sat on the couch in silence, then crying, then silence and over again, for almost an hour, we decided to get changed and head out to grab a quick dinner before we went to the concert.
We stopped at McDonald's, which we never even think to eat there, but for some reason, it seemed to fit our mood. After I griped out the manager about the fountain drink machine pouring out more carbonated water than Coke syrup, we sat down and I cried over my chicken McNuggets while muttering to myself how things never turn out the way the should and asking why nothing can go right for me - not even a decent fountain drink at McDonald's! Poor guy - it wasn't his fault my baby had died, but he certainly heard my anger that evening.
Once we finished eating, we headed to the Civic Center Music Hall and found our seats. Looking back on that night, it was as if we were ghosts among the living. I have never felt that way in my whole life before that moment, but the closest I can come to describing it was that I felt totally numb and my thoughts were dwelling on things that were far away from our location.
Unfortunately, there are only a few things I remember about the concert. I remember the way Norah looked and how I was a bit disappointed that she had chopped off her hair. I recall thinking how talented she was and how much I liked her music, which she played with exceptional passion and ease. I cannot remember which songs they were, but there were several she performed that directly spoke to me that night and caused more tears to fall than I had prepared for. I also remember giving in and looking next to me, at my husband, who sat so still for so long, I had wondered if he was still there. He was, and I could see his face reflecting the blue lights from the stage and seeing the glistening pool of tears that had gathered at the base of his eyes - trying with the same might I was attempting to muster in order to keep those tears from winning. Afterall, we were in public, surrounded by people whistling, singing-along with the music, and clapping. We just didn't fit in  - we were lost.