Goodbye SpongeBob

And this is how we start to heal . . .

Easy E

It was late in the afternoon last Friday. I was tired, and tired of being in bed. I had passed more blood than I thought one person should pass. I was crampy, hazy and getting tired of the nothing that was on television. I was sick of sleeping and my head hurt too much to read, so I did what any person might do, I started organizing the stored shows on my TIVO (DVR). As I scrolled down, I realized that we would never ever finish watching Nick Nolte in the fabulous 1979 hit, North Dallas Forty, and it was time to say goodbye. I scrolled to the right spot, pressed “enter,” and when I was asked if I really wanted to “delete this selection,” I selected “yes,” and with one click, the movie was gone. I continued scrolling through our many randomly saved shows until I noticed a recording from several months back. It was a Coldplay performance on Austin City Limits. With Chris Martin and Fix You fresh on my brain, I decided I must take a look. I listened for a few seconds and then began fast-forwarding through their set until I saw Michael Stipe. I couldn’t remember what he and Chris Martin were singing together from the last time I watched. Obviously, I had to know, so I stopped fast-forwarding. Immediately, as I pushed “play,” I recognized the song. It is one of my favorites: Joseph Arthur’s In the Sun.

. . . Don’t know anymore
What it’s for
I’m not even sure
If there is anyone who is in the sun
Will you help me to understand
Cause I been caught in between all I wish for and all I need
Maybe you’re not even sure what it’s for
Any more than me

May god’s love be with you
May god’s love be with you . . .

If you haven’t noticed, and what I too am learning about myself, is that I seem to be somewhat of a lyrical healer. I don’t quite understand why, but words in a song often squeeze their way right into the locked-down places of my heart. It is weird.

So this Michael Stipe and Chris Martin rendition of In the Sun has been playing in my head all week long. I keep hearing, “May God’s love be with you always, always . . .” It probably goes without saying, but whether you believe in God or think I am a nut for believing in something so intangible really isn’t the point. You see, as I listen to these words, I keep thinking how nice it is to feel like there is something out there greater than myself; maybe even something or someone, who actually knows my heart and knows my pain. Religion and politics aside, these healing thoughts are a tiny bit of what is helping me through.

Tangent done and back on my bed: I kept fast-forwarding through Coldplay’s set and land on their song, Fix You. Of course I listen. I listened and then I pushed “pause.” I hadn’t spent any time with the boys all day. My mom was doing a fantastic job of keeping them occupied and preventing them from jumping on my jumbled up uterus. I was missing them terribly.

Another Tangent: What I did not mention the other day is that when Eli grows up he wants to be a rock-star scientist. (Do you think he is trying to channel Buckaroo Banzai?) To help him achieve at least half of his career goals and when I just can’t handle listening to another kid’s CD, I will switch on some Mommy Music. Not so oddly enough, the boys have taken a liking to bands like Coldplay. Often when Fix You comes on Eli says,

“Now Mom, you are the drummer. I am the Katar (guitar) player and Kyle, you are the singer.”

We take our respective rock-star-buckled-safely-into-our-seats positions and usually end up singing our guts out. Literally my favorite part of our driving-rock-star-band is watching Eli from my rear-view mirror. I watch him as he intently listens for the guitar parts and strums along at just the right moment on his Electric Air Guitar. Nothing makes me happier then playing my Air Drums and singing my heart out in Eli’s rock and roll band, (even when both boys remind me to “stop singing” because I am the drummer and Kyle is actually the singer).

Back to Friday afternoon. Because I was missing the boys and because I knew they would recognize Fix You as soon as they heard the very first chord, I asked them to come see me. As Kyle walked into my room, he turned his head toward the television, looked up at the screen and giggled.

“Why is Daddy on the t.v.?”

We couldn’t stop laughing as Kyle realized that the man on the television set wasn’t actually Daddy, but a man who as Kyle said, “just looks like Daddy” (Chris Martin). (Oh, if I only looked like Gwyneth!)

I pushed “play,” and the boys both jumped on my bed, onto their feet and into their very best ROCK-STAR positions. The music starts and we all sing as we play our Air Instruments. This moment was absolutely, without question, the best part of the day; the day I had a miscarriage . . .

My week has been the craziest Roller Coaster ride of emotions. I think my personal emotional roller coaster ride is something akin to the Incredible Hulk. I have had great moments of hope and terrible hours of sadness. I am always surprised by the moments I cry and have been blown away by the support I have received here. I have sought solace in your words and am incredibly grateful for you. My friend Trace (who I met over the internet, by the way), just wrote about how the internet has become her social network and I am beginning to agree.

What I am learning is that miscarriage is kind of a black hole. So many women have them and even my own doctor says there has not been adequate research in finding out why. Because there are so many miscarriages that should happen (because of genetic problems, etc.), there is not enough research into the ones that should not happen. I am honestly not sure whether my miscarriage fits in the should or in the should not have happened category.

I am still so sad and confused, but just yesterday I was reading an article about miscarriage. I was reminded that before I move on, I need to see this little baby as a child that I was not able to have. I need to not only grieve my failed pregnancy, but I need to grieve this baby. Because miscarriage can be so abstract I have had a hard time seeing this for what it is: We lost a child, maybe a child that was not supposed to live, nevertheless, we lost him or her.

And then it occurred to me. With every pregnancy, we have given each baby a code-name (Dave is from the software industry, after all). Kyle’s was Seymour (I can’t even remember why we came up with Seymour, except that it was a funny name and people actually thought we were going to name Kyle Seymour), Eli’s was Elmo (to help Kyle connect with his new little brother — He was into Elmo at the time) and just last week Dave said,

“I think this baby is ready for his code-name. Kyle and Eli had one. I think we should call him SpongeBob,” (after Kyle and Eli’s favorite show, cartoon character, etc).

And so it was. Jut a few days before we found out about losing the pregnancy we started calling our baby SpongeBob.

So yesterday after reading the article about miscarriage, I decided I needed to really acknowledge not what I lost, but who I lost. I thought about it for a long time, took a deep breath and finally said out loud,

“Goodbye SpongeBob. Even though we really didn’t have a lot of time to get to know you, we would have loved having you in our family. Hey, and every time we look at pictures from our trip to Capitol Reef, we will always remember that you were there with us. We are still so sad that you couldn’t continue to be a part of our family. Eli tearfully told me how sad he is that he isn’t going to be a big brother and then Kyle joined in and told me how sad he is that he isn’t going to be a double big brother. We will all will miss you. We will always have the picture our friend took on the 4th of July. You can actually see my pregnant belly. When I look at that picture, I will always think of you. Goodbye little buddy. You will always be our SpongeBob.”

Tagged : /

37 thoughts on “Goodbye SpongeBob

  1. We hope you’re healing. It will take time. I promise, the pain will lessen.

    I’m happy to see that I’m not the only one that thinks your Dave looks like CM…I was smiling as I read that.

    I, too, am a lyrical healer. To this day one of my favorite healing songs is ‘Can’t Cry Hard Enough’–Williams Brothers'tCryEnough.htm

  2. I so love the toenail polish. (As I just wrote this I couldn’t believe that polish was spelled the same as Polish – I tried to come up with another spelling, but yup, it’s the same.) I could pick your long, big toes out from any lineup.

    I love that you coded your baby SpongeBob. We just saw a goofy performance tonight by an impersonator. He did the BEST SpongeBob Squarepants. I usually hate goofy comedy, but I’m mesmerized by SpongeBob.

    Okay, enought dribble. Your spirit sounds a little better. I love you.

  3. Thank you for sharing that, I realize that in some way this must be cathartic, but it also must be very hard to process this for not only yourself but for the world to see.

    I just hope that we members of the world are also helping you as well. Amy hit it right on the head. I am sure that each and every one of us would love to be able to wave our magic wands and “fix” you.

    Instead we offer our words, love and support in the small ways that we can. Take care Beth and continue to know you are loved.

  4. Beth, you are wonderful. When I grow up, I want to have clarity like you. And even half as much heart as you have, would be just fine. I have been thinking about you every day, and want you to know that there are more people than you will ever know, pulling for you and your fantastic family. (((HUGS)))

  5. Beth,
    I couldn’t not comment today, even though I’ve been a professional lurker. My friend is going through the same process. She was almost 5 months pregnant. I wasn’t sure what to do for her, other than call her, tell her how terribly sorry I was, and lend our support whenever she needed it. I never felt like it was enough, but realize that now, that’s what she needs.

    I am so so sorry for your loss. Thank you for helping me realize that being there for her was what I needed to do, and letting her determine if she needs me.

  6. Hugs Hugs Hugs. You are so strong and so good at working your way through things. I wish that there was something that I could do for you besides offering words of comfort…I wish that all of us here who read you could take on just a piece of your sorrow and lighten your load. I’m glad you’re gaining some peace, Beth. And all of you have cute feet. 😉

  7. I had a miscarriage last summer and haven’t been able to get pregnant since. In some ways I know how hard this is. Society downplays miscarriage as something to get over fast, brush it off and get back on the horse. I did that and almost a year later I was a wreck b/c i realized I’d never really processed my grief and loss.

    I always enjoy your words, Beth. You inspire far more people than you realize.

  8. Always make your way as you define it, not by how anyone else thinks you “should”. My husband & I are taking a grief class and it’s amazing how much our society fears grief and wants everyone to hurry up and get over things. It simply can’t be rushed, and the “normal” you knew before will never be the same – it will return, but it will be different. Huge hugs to you & your blue-toenailed family, sweetie.

  9. I am glad you have been starting to find some reasons to smile. I miscarried a couple of months ago and still at times feel sad, lost..everything. It’s such a confusing and emotional journey. And although I do think it gets better, I just wanted you to know I am thankful for your post and how eloquently you describe what its like to muddle your way through a miscarriage. I hope you continue healing any way that you can, and even though your dealing with our own grief right now, I am offering you a sheepish thank you for helping me deal with mine.

  10. Like Amanda, I miscarried a few months ago and am really inspired by your words. While you are healing yourself, you are also helping others heal through your writing. Thank you, Beth. You have such an amazing outlook. I know this is such a difficult time and you are kind and generous to share with others.

  11. I have always used lyrics to associate feelings and moods for whatever is going on in my life. It is a wonderful way to cope with different things, finding a lyric that puts things into some sort of perspective. My hope is that you will heal. Your body, as well as your mind and heart.

  12. Thank you for sharing, Beth, at a time when I’m pretty sure you just feel like retreating. How brave (and healing, I think) for you to share so honestly your thoughts, emotions and feelings.
    I love reading about you & the amazing relationship you share with your boys. Your Rock Star moments put a smile on my face.
    Keep your strength and your faith.

  13. Totally crying at my desk right now.

    Beth, that was a lovely and moving post. Thanks for sharing all of this.

  14. Beth, you’re showing such grace through all this. I doubt I would handle it as well. The image of you and your little rock stars has put a smile on my face, and I hope it brought one to yours, too. I think you’re very brave to deal with all this right now. You are wonderful.

  15. Beth.
    My thoughts and prayers are with you right now. I cannot imagine the feelings you must be dealing with right now.
    I too am a lyric-obsessed person, and am constantly telling my fiance “listen, listen to this verse”…he just doesn’t always appreciate it as much as I do.
    A song that I have always listened to when dealing with loss is Sarah McLachlan’s ‘Angel’:
    “You’re in the arms of the angel, may you find some comfort there.”

  16. Beth, thank you for sharing. Your words make me want to be a better mom and appreciate every day I have with my child. Thank you. Take care of yourself and your boys.

  17. Blue toenails are evidence of the great support network you have with you everyday. They will help you heal.

  18. My thoughts have gone to you more times than you know. I’m glad you are healing. You are, you know. Big hugs and kisses to you and your whole family.

  19. The first time I heard ‘In The Sun’, I thought of you. Seriously. It was when we were exhanging “mixed tapes” and I thought “I have to put this on one of Beth’s CDs.”

    The song just has those lyrics that make you reflect on things to the point where you feel like you might cry, and by the end of the song when the “God’s Love” chorus kicks in, you feel euphoric and have goosebumps all over. I bet the Chris Martin/Michael Stipe version was AMAZING.

    I just discovered a CD that I think you would really like. Actually, it’s two bands – allegra gellar performing with Richard Parsons. The music feels like everything I love about allegra gellar, but with a voice and lyrics that feel like everything I love about Damian Rice.

    And coincidentally, the album is called Until The Sun Dies.

    What’s with the sun theme, huh?

    So that is my distraction for the moment. Because I know at times like these you need to distract yourself from your own thoughts to keep it all from becoming too much to bear.


  20. Beth,

    Glad to see that you are starting to heal. Slowly, ever so slowly, things will get better. Thanks for being so brave and sharing your experiences. You are doing a lot of good.

    I know what you mean about the songs, I’m the same way. For some reason, there is that moment: we hear the melody, listen to the lyrics and the emotion strikes so deeply. That moment of clarity takes your breath away. Hold onto those moments.

    Best to you, Dave, and your lovely boys as you continue to heal. By the way, love the polish! (^_^)

  21. i absolutely believe that was the right thing for you to do. i wanted to say so when you first posted the news, but it seemed like you were going to allow yourself to feel, digest and mourn the loss — so i didn’t.

    bye, spongebob. i’m sorry it didn’t work out too. see ya on the other side.

  22. that was very touching. i am so sorry for your loss. really i am. i don’t even know you, but if there was anything i could do, i would because i could imagine how hard something like this must be. keep listening to “in the sun”. that’s a beautiful song, like you said whether you believe or not.

  23. While I was reading, my 2 1/2 year old son walked by and said, “Mommy, look at all the toes!!” He was quite delighted 🙂 So even in your pain, Beth, you still managed to make other people happy. You are a wonderful person and a great mom, and I’m glad to know you through your blog.
    Thank you for sharing Spongebob’s story…it was incredibly touching, and I’m so sorry it had to have this kind of ending. My prayers have been with you all.

  24. Thank you everyone! I love your comments. I feel like you get it and your getting it means so much to me. Thank you. You are all helping me get through this!

  25. I’m sorry.

    I’m sorry you had to go through this. I wish I could do something for you. I wish I could drive to your house and give you a hug and tell you things will get better or I could call you on the phone and let you cry and yell and vent then somehow make you laugh and feel reassured. I’ve been reading your blog for so long I feel like I know you like I know my best friends. So I feel like I want to be there for you. I wish I could.

  26. Beth, you and your family truely are an inspiration. Thank you for sharing with us and love to you all.

  27. Beth, I’m just catching up with crazyus and seeing this. I’m so, so sorry. I had a m/c in February and we’ve been bitterly disappointed every month for many months before and after. It’s such a rollercoaster and a hard hard existence.

    I’m glad and inspired to see you healing. I love the photos.

  28. I am so, so sorry. Was not expecting to burst into tears coming back to this site, but I did. I guess there’s not anything anyone can say to help it, but I am so so sorry.

  29. I’m so sorry that you lost a child who would have been so close to you. My heart breaks to hear of your loss. But from this you will gain and grow. For now the sorrow weighs heavy but light will shine on you another day. you’ll never forget the pain but one day you will relish in the light of the love that surrounds you.

  30. You, my dear are a super hero.

    I just want you to know that your eloguent writing and your ability to work through your pain with your beautiful words is just positively amazing.

    Thank you for sharing your life with us, I have been touched by your family.

    Thank you.

  31. My first comment was on Two Pink Lines, to rejoice with you that we were almost exactly the same amount pregnant and Good Luck. Well, I just wanted to say thank you for sharing your story, as I lived through it last Tuesday myself…and if I hadn’t known of your loss, how it can happen and our bodies not “know” it yet, it would have been a lot harder to stare at that ultrasound screen.

    I am in the long process of healing now. Thank you for your part in it.

Comments are closed.