Two Kisses for Maddy_ A Memoir of Loss & Love - Matthew Logelin [31]
The nurse placed Madeline in my arms. I bawled as I stared at her, worried that I was going to fail her as a parent. Not only in general; I really had no idea what to do with a baby girl. I grew up with five brothers, and I knew the kind of trouble boys would inevitably get themselves into. At least I wouldn’t have to discipline our daughter for a mailbox bombing or a grass fire started with a gasoline-soaked, fire-engulfed soccer ball. I had a stepsister, but she was a lot older, so I never got to listen through the door, snickering as someone explained all the things that girls need to know as they grow up. My thoughts fast-forwarded twelve years into the future. When is it okay for her to start dating? Never, if she ends up looking anything like Liz. How am I going to explain a menstrual cycle with the delicateness of a mother? I won’t be able to do it without making inappropriate jokes. How am I going to take her shopping for a training bra and not look like a total pervert? Wait…I should probably figure out what the fuck a training bra is first.
Madeline squirmed a bit in my arms, drawing me back into reality. Though I knew there would be plenty, it was probably too soon to start counting my fatherly failures. Holding her, I knew that I was going to have to figure things out for her sake. But I was going to need help. I looked at Madeline and said out loud, “I don’t care what you do when you’re fourteen or fifteen, but for the next few years, you better be the best fucking baby ever.” The NICU nurse must have thought I was insane, but at that moment, I was insane: my wife was dead, and I had no clue how I was going to live without her.
I spent about twenty minutes with my child before heading back toward Liz’s room. As I walked the hallways, I noticed they were devoid of hospital staff. Through an open door I found the missing nurses, some sitting, some standing, most crying. I recognized nearly all of them. I saw the grief counselor inside as well, and I knew for sure why they were there. I stuck my head in and asked if I could join them.
I don’t know why, but I felt compelled to say something to the nurses and PCAs. I thanked them for everything they had done to keep Liz comfortable during her time in the hospital, and for everything they had done to get Madeline safely into the world, too. And for everything they had done to try to save my wife’s life.
There was no reaction; just stunned silence as I exited the room. Back in the hallway, I saw a man pushing a stretcher with a large, white cardboard box on it. I didn’t immediately realize that inside that box was Liz’s body. I stood there alone, watching as the man took a left and pushed the stretcher—and the only woman I had ever loved—away from me.
Chapter 9
in the chair,
you in my arms,
it’s almost
as if the rest
was nothing but
a nightmare.
i just wish we
could both
wake up.
Word began to spread about Liz’s death, and my phone was constantly ringing with people calling to say nothing. Each conversation was another chance to try to comfort the person on the other end of the phone, but it was weird to have to play that role for everyone else. I knew that our friends and family meant well, but what the hell were they really going to tell me? The circumstances were unimaginable to everyone; finding the right words was impossible. Some spoke of Liz in the present tense, acting as if she was on vacation, while others focused on Madeline, asking questions and telling me that they were looking forward to watching her grow up. But all of them used euphemisms that kept them from truly having to face my reality: Liz had passed on, passed away, or was in a better place. None of them wanted to acknowledge the finality of her death, but I didn’t have that