I had so much hope for today. I know I haven't been that active here lately, but I've been thinking about everyone. I've been using my blog a lot more recently. For the first time I shared the site with my FB friends today. Here is today's....
Today should have been the day, one of the most amazing days of my life. Today we should have been going to the hospital, but we aren’t. In a few days we would have been going home with our baby boy in our arms, but we won’t. There aren’t car seats in the cars, there isn’t a crib at home or a closet full of cute little boy clothes I’ve been washing. I won’t be sleep deprived in the coming weeks due to midnight feedings and diaper changes. Yes, I know it’s just an estimated date, but it’s all I have, because my son was born too early and could not survive.
Instead, today is just another day. I woke up and ate breakfast, I’ll run a few errands and if I’m feeling up to it I’ll go to school tonight. Instead, in May, I got to join a club no parent should ever have to join. I am a mother without a child to hold, I am a mother to an angel. Instead, today I grieve. I grieve for my son, for the loss of innocence in my life, in future pregnancies, in my marriage.
When you find out that you’re pregnant there is a worry of how this will affect your marriage. What will bringing this tiny little human into the fold do to your relationship. There’s tons of advice out there on what to do and how to handle things. Never did I think about what losing a baby would do to our relationship. How it would affect me, how it would affect him and how we would get through it together. Having to worry about would we be able to get through it, would staying together be too painful for both of us? I lost my son, was I going to lose my husband?
It is said that losing a child is like losing a limb, a part of you will always be missing. However, over time it is forgotten about it. Your wound is not visible to the world, your broken heart cannot be seen. While I understand that life does go on for everyone, I don’t want him to be forgotten. He may not be here with us, but I want his birthday remembered.
I want to hear people say his name, I want to say his name, he did exist, he continues to in my heart. I know it’s a scary and sad thing, but I want people to ask me about him, I would rather talk and cry about it then not, it lets me know that he mattered to others.
I don’t want to hear things that feel like he is being brushed aside, like things didn’t happen, like I should just be okay. Some things I’ve heard in the past several months that were meant to be encouraging, however were anything but that…
- It was God’s plan - Think about how you would feel if one of your children died, and you heard this over and over.
- You can always have more kids - I just lost my son, can I have time to grieve for him? Having more kids won’t take the pain away. He cannot be replaced.
- God doesn’t give you more than you can handle
- Everything happens for a reason - Really? Can you please come up with a logical reasoning for me having to make the decision I did?
- You’re strong, you’ll make it through this - I have no other choice but to be strong right now. It’s not a choice, in order to survive this it’s my only option.
Unless you have experienced this kind of loss or know my story, the best thing you can do is ask about my story and listen. It’s better to just sit with me through my tears and listen. Don’t ask if we are going to have more kids, if you haven’t even asked about him. That’s more painful than asking about him. You don’t even know his story and you’re asking about future kids? Don’t know the story, don’t be afraid to ask, I would love to tell it, tell you his story. I know it might be uncomfortable to ask, but I’m not going to force the story on someone who is not interested.
I’m about to enter into a season of firsts, but not the firsts I dreamed of. There will be no cute little onsie for his first Halloween costume. There is babies first Christmas ornament that will be hanging on the tree. Instead we will have one that reads “1st Christmas in the Clouds”. There will be no quiet time Christmas morning with just the three of us, starting our own family Christmas. In the spring I won’t be enjoying other little milestones like friends who are due in a short few weeks. Then in May I’ll have the first anniversary of his birth and death, what’s known in the loss community as his angelversary.
How is it that I just go on without him? How do I not think about what could have been, what should have been, as I hear about friends having their babies and pregnancy announcements? I don’t want to be a downer, constantly posting sad thoughts, so I have withdrawn from Facebook. I don’t want to be that person, to bring fear to those that are pregnant. I know I wouldn’t want to see ramblings from someone in my situation, if I weren’t in my situation.
He will always in my heart, he will always be in my heart, I think about him daily and miss him always. There is no time frame on this grief, I didn’t lose a part of the past or present, but rather a part of the future. This doesn’t mean that I am lost, and won’t make it through or that Rick and I won’t have our family. It means he is a part of our family, it means his brothers and sisters will know him.
There are good times and bad, and as time goes on the good does outweigh the bad. In the beginning I never thought that would be possible, but it has happened.