Alayna Gail Bromley (9/15/05-12/31/05)

As I try to conceive of the words to describe the last four days of my life, I can't help but feel that at any moment I will wake up and realize that the last four days of my life were in fact just a terrible, terrible dream. If we possibly lost Alayna, the way that I think we did, the way my swollen eyes and broken heart tell me we did...surely the world would had to have stopped turning.

But still, I find myself in Pittsburgh. Having spent two days in Intensive Care at Children's. In silenced rooms. Surrounded by the constant influx of sobs. Quieted. For Stephanie's sake. I find myself having my black dress dry-cleaned for the baby's funeral. I find myself talking constantly about IVs, and doctors, ventilators, sodium levels and dying. I find myself at Stephanie and Shane's house, folding laundry, and separating the baby's clothes to place out of sight on the bed behind her closed door. I find myself carrying the stroller into the basement. And mostly I find myself crying. More than I have ever cried. Which leads to more uncomfortable moments, confused sentences, pounding headaches and lack of sleep than I'm used to as well. I had no idea that grief took such a physical form.

I've referred to Stephanie and her daughter, Alayna, in previous entries. Usually I was saying how they blew my mind. Their little family came together so naturally, so quickly, that at times I would look at the baby and say, "where did that come from?" Steph would laugh. In part because this life, this family, though shocking to me, for her was completely natural. In her heart, she has been a mommy her entire life. Alayna is gone now. And although her life ended, and mine did not, I feel a lot like it should have. It's irrational thoughts like that, which sneak up on you without warning. Like when the man at the store wished me a happy new year, and I wanted to choke him for even suggesting such a thing.

I am angry at the world for continuing to spin without our punkin in it. I realize, of course, that anyone who has suffered a loss must understand this phenomenon. It is unreasonable to expect everyone to stop going to work, and to the store, and the mall. To stop what they are doing and aknowledge the fact that nothing will ever be the same again. But in fact, it will not. And after Wednesday evening, I'm going to have to re-enter the world, which is still spinning while I am with my friends and our families in a grief-stricken standstill, and I will have to find out just how different I have become.

When I said goodbye, and left her hospital room for the last time, I decided that the memory of Alayna there would not be the one I would keep. I would choose to remember her Calvin Klein sweatsuit and baby-Uggz. I would choose to remember her striped tights, and the day that Stephanie called to tell me that she was crying real tears. I would remember the chubby cheeks which were made specially for the purposes of kissing. I would remember the way she smelled. I would remember the sound of her laughter. I would remember how she smiled at her mommy. And I do remember these things. I will never forget my *niece* Alayna Gail Bromley. The most beautiful baby I have ever known.


I love you punkin...