March 1, 2011.

Posted On Tuesday, March 01, 2011  by Lucienne

It is 12 years ago, today,that my daughter Elizabeth died. I share this story with everyone—knowing our experiences with HELLP will last our lifetime and the memories of loss and sickness have changed us.

I don’t remember Elizabeth well. I barely met her. I remember being given last rights. I remember wondering if my daughter  would outlive me.  I remember being told she had just a 10% chance of living. It seemed like a good %. I remember giving her my middle name because it was the only thing I could think of giving her. I remember being too sick to understand time.  I remember taking her off of the machine.  I remember my husband weeping. I remember not knowing what to do. I remember not feeling emotion.

Today, as years go by, nobody remembers this date. Many don’t understand how pivotal the experience was. I wonder when a day will go by when I don’t think of her. Will I feel badly? Will it be oK? Have I indeed missed a day—or two?

To this day, and probably forever, I worry about silly things. What if the house burns down? Will I have time to take her ashes with me? Will my children, my husband, remember to have her buried with me? When my daughters give birth, will they too experience loss? Will they be sick? Will someone be there in their city to provide last minute emergency care.

Weird things happen, a friend goes to work at a mortuary—11 years later—they remember the family name. They remember Elizabeth. Other friends go by months in friendship—unaware of Elizabeth. Most don’t understand. How could they? I try my best to forgive them. I’m not always successful.