H&P

Being married to a doctor, I always hear random medical terms and abbreviations of the job. H&P is one of them. History and Physical. Today I went to the hospital and picked up any and all records of Lucie they had. The women who man the medical records office were so kind. No charge at all, allowed me to use a back hallway for privacy as I navigated my way from one building to the next. I just held the thick envelope for some time, opting to grab some coffee and a pastry instead of opening it right away. I walked over to the North Pavilion, the building where I had the girls- the building the kids call "that's the place where Helena stayed and Lucie died and you had all the bleed, mommy." I had no real plan when I walked over there. I had no appointments. I guess I just wanted to be in the same area. I found a bench and took Helena out of her stroller. She sat on the bench with me, slapping the leather and cooing and giggling with delight. With one hand on her, I managed to open the envelope with the other. There on the bench outside the maternity gift shop, I read about my girl. I read her official cause of death; multiple congenital anomalies. I read her official time of death;"death was called at 1400 hours on 26 Feb 2009". There was one piece of information I had not been aware of previously. Lucie had cardiomegaly, which means she had an enlarged heart. I knew her chest cavity was small due to her abdominal issues, but I wasn't aware that her heart was bigger. I always felt that metaphorically, she had the biggest heart of all. She stayed alive in there for her sister. She stayed alive in there for me. And some part of me knows that the reason Helena is such a happy, calm baby is because she's grateful. She sensed from the start that there was a loss. You could see it in how she slept, having been used to nuzzling with her twin all those weeks.

The image of my dying daughter taking her only breaths while I held her in my arms is burned in my mind. I remember seeing the blue move from her fingertips, inward. I remember looking over at my husband, tears falling from his face to hers. I wiped away the secretions near her nose. I still have that cloth. I have the blood soaked blanket she was wrapped in. It took me weeks to be able to wash it, but I finally had to as it was decomposing. I have her hand and foot prints tucked away in my closet. Her ashes sit in a small urn on top of the kitchen cabinets. It was the only place where I could still look at her every day but the kids wouldn't open it. We never sealed it because one day we hope to spread her ashes and plant a flower garden. All little tokens of my little baby and the imprint she left on this world. You better believe she had a big heart.