By Éva Zsák
The day when it all happened was a bit more than five years ago now. In May. May used to be my favourite month of the year, as spring used to be my favourite season. It used to be beautiful. I remember how happy I was on that very day, it felt like a miracle. It was not that harsh, noisy type of happiness, rather the one that can strengthen you and make you feel that it is exactly what you have been longing for, for such a long time. Everything seemed to fall into place.
The day when it all happened my whole world smashed into tiny bits and pieces. That comforting happiness vanished in seconds, eternally, and void took its place. I did not, I could not understand what was happening. I did not want to believe what was happening. Ever since I have kept asking myself what I should have done differently. I remember the shock, the fear, the anxiety and the panic I felt. Life, as I knew it, ended then and there. I died there, partly for sure. And I haven’t been the same ever since. When did my little baby boy die? Did he die inside the womb? Was he stillborn or did he live for a couple of seconds after his birth? No one told me, no one showed him to me or asked me whether I wanted to see him, hold him, even for a very short time. No one. And I let him go, I abandoned him, him, whom I longed to see, love and hold the most. He was born into death instead of life.
The day when it all happened time stopped. The time I am living now is a different one. It has already got blue skies and sunshine on better days, but I know it’s different skies now, it has at least one more star. And when I travel by plane I feel better, I feel closer to him. I like to think that he is sitting on one of the clouds, hopefully smiling and with bright eyes. I hope he can feel how much I love and miss him. Every day. This new time is a cruel one, too. It goes by so fast, even though I don’t want it. How dare it do that? I want it to go back to that hour before all this could have been stopped and freeze there forever. Or if not possible, freeze in the very last minute. I could be okay with that and stay there. But knowing that each second drifts me further and further away from those precious hours drives me crazy.
The day when it all happened something new started. I had no clue how to go on, I sort of had no recipe for a tragedy. Tabula rasa. A brand new leaf. With relationships, with myself, with everyday life. For some time I had the feeling I was watching a film. It was the film of my life, me as the main character, I could see myself in different scenes with different people, but I was not really present, I was watching it from the darkness of the room, from a back row. It was a frightening feeling. And I’m not entirely sure I have changed position completely since then.
The day when it all happened I joined a club. Though involuntarily and unconsciously, but I got full membership in the club of mothers with empty arms, and a broken, grieving heart. Since then a lot of holidays and special days have changed. I celebrate no mothers’ day. It’s not that I want to be celebrated or thanked, no, not at all. It’s that I miss so much the chance to see my growing angel running towards me and kissing me shyly or with a sweet grin on his cheeks. I had plans for the first Christmas together. It was supposed to be a very special Christmas. But I had those plans cancelled in the blink of an eye with so many others on that spring day five years ago. I started to celebrate two birthdays. With no birthday cakes, no presents or laughing kids. One in May, and one in November, which was meant to be the due date.
The day when it all happened – the day when my son Peter was born and died – was in May.
Eva is 39. She lives in Hungary and Italy. She is a teacher and an interpreter, but now also a med school student.Her little angel, Peter is her only child. He died five years ago due to a premature rupture of membranes. This experience changed her life completely. She started to learn about grief and child-loss and the importance of the human factor in doctor-patient relationships. She likes reading, poetry, and literature in general.
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Eva, you leave me speechless but with a slight feeling that I have found someone I can relate to. I am enduring the most difficult time in my life and as strange and awful as this may be I find solace in knowing you know what it feels to know and feel what I feel. Its almost a year for me and yet have to meet or know of anyone who has suffered a loss due to P.R.O.M. And strangely someone from the other side of the world feels and thinks the same thoughts I have gone through. I thought I was alone. I see you are in med school, maybe you will be able to help woman like you and I and give more answers than we ever got. I hope to speak to you more some day.
I have just realized from your journey that, life continues for us as strong woman and that our children never leave us, we learn how to maneuver through the changes along with the seasons but appear to be solid strong, because from here I see and hear that from your words, your picture and your professional ventures. Makes me realize its ok to be who we are, to accept what life has dealt us and embrace it more than we do. Yes they did change us that day is when it all started, our true journey. You brought me hope, a ray of sunshine. That is my sons teaching me something valuable from afar through you. Thank you for sharing.