Phantom Pains

Marshall always refers to Sundays as the Sunday Blues, mostly because he was always having to travel back to Charleston on Sundays. Today, however, I was the one leaving. I delayed it for as long as I could. We even had a long lunch with friends on Sullivan's Island before I headed out. Since it would be our last weekend in Charleston for probably a really good while, I wanted to make the most of it. It was such a beautiful day and there was this cute little park near where we had lunch. If Nolan was still here, I imagine that Marshall and I would have taken him there. The park was even named Marshall Park. Maybe one day we will have other kids we can take there. Eventually, I had to say my goodbyes and pack up the car to head back to Charlotte.

I knew that leaving the dogs with Marshall so he could take them back to Wilmington with him tomorrow was the better thing for the dogs, but I didn't realize how much I would really miss them. I figured since I'm at work 13 hours a day, I don't see them that much and would be okay being by myself. This was to be my first day really by myself since Nolan passed away. No husband, no friends, no family and no dogs. Even when everyone else had gone away, I still had the dogs. If you haven't been able to tell yet, our dogs are our babies. They are part of our family. We love them dearly and treat them more like people than four legged furry animals. They have given me such a comfort in the past 3 months and have been there with me whenever I was upset and needed a good laugh. But tonight as I drove back from Charleston to Charlotte, I found myself glancing in the rear view mirror to see what the dogs were doing in the backseat. Each time I felt dumb for having forgot they weren't back there. My new apartment seemed eerily quiet and still this evening. I know I will get used to this but I am reminded now that I'm not totally okay with being by myself. I don't like it. I enjoy quiet time but I want company while I have it. I want someone to sit with me and just be there. That's what was so wonderful about the dogs. They were just there. I didn't have to talk to them, but if I wanted to they would listen and sometimes cock their heads to the side to show their interest.




You get so used to the company of others that it feels a bit like they are still there even when they aren't. It's like phantom pains in a leg that no longer exists. I used to not really understand that concept. How does one really feel the pain when there's nothing there any longer to feel it? Well, carry a baby for 34 weeks. A baby that kicks you and squirms and hiccups inside you and then that baby dies and you no longer have him inside you or in your arms. I have felt the phantom pains inside me. For weeks after Nolan's death I couldn't help but to rub my belly the way I did when Nolan was inside there. It was the way I could communicate with him and I subconsciously continued to do it long after he was gone. It's an emptiness I can't explain. I don't know if pregnant women who give birth to healthy babies feel any of that or if the emptiness of their bellies is replaced with the liveliness of their baby in their arms. Hopefully, one day I will personally be able to answer that question. For now, I have to imagine that the phantom kicks and squirms in my belly are something that only mothers of stillborn babies feel.