In memory of my little Dixie Dale
Four years ago this week, I miscarried a little zygote of a girl, who I had affectionately named Meryl Dixie Dale Junior Girl. (An anonymous nurse informed me of her sex many weeks later. I knew anyway, and it was oddly OK to learn that I was right.) It wasn’t her time to be on this planet, and it wasn’t my time apparently to mama this little girl. There is much that I am still thankful for about her little life; like finding out about her on Mother’s Day, and the miracle of discovering my body could carry a baby, even if just temporarily.
The surge of hormones, combined with the ongoing conversation with my uterine tenant was like a dip in a big ole vat of pink girlie dust for me. I wore little dresses, and seemed to flounce about in a way I never had before. I was in love with this new layer of Mama Me and the little inside me-inside me.
At eleven weeks, my little pink fairy was nothing but a series of specks dancing across an ultrasound screen.
At twelve weeks I set her spirit free on a little cove not far from here, and saw it leap into the ocean as I shook with grief, within the lines of a labyrinth my friend Tom had drawn on the damp sand for me.
I stood tall and proud, and summoned a brave smile so she’d always have that as her lasting image of me.
The next day, I went for the DNC, knowing she was far, far from me.
Today Sammy and I will go there for a picnic, a swim and an ice cream. I’ll bring some little flowers from my garden to throw into the water in honor of her lasting beauty without and within me. I’ll wear the new little pink dress I bought for myself yesterday not fully aware of the connection to the date, even though my body remembered.
I conceived Marcel, on the day she was due to be born, January 6th, 2007. So, I like to think, a little part of her is still here dancing inside his soft yellow curls, or looking out at me from a speck of blue in his hazel eyes.
To loss, and love, and all the gifts therein. To you little Dixie Dale, who I’ll always cherish, and thank for the gift of readiness you gave my body, and the color you put into the pink of summer.