Today is "
Pregnancy and Infant Loss Remembrance Day", and I thought I would take this opportunity to share a little. I haven't written a lot about my loss here on my blog. I think, what has stopped me the most, is that it's a difficult subject for me -
what to say,
how to say it, and then: to actually sit down and type it out. I've thought through several posts within the last two and a half years - but felt emotionally drained just thinking about it. This post isn't going to be about the events of my loss, or the days following. Rather, it will touch on what life is like two and a half years later, and what life is like with loss followed by secondary infertility.
My baby was due November 13th, 2010. My baby would be turning 2 soon.
I think about my baby all the time. Yes, it has gotten easier with time. The deep grief which once crushed me has released its hold. There are still moments my heart hurts - that is the difference with the passage of time - the hurt is measured in a flickering
moment, not
days on end. These days
I catch my breath with a sudden remembrance of my baby, I don't have to
think about breathing.
So, these days? I think the hardest thing I deal with
socially is in meeting people and making new friends. One little qusetion: "How many children do you have?" causes my mind to scramble for an answer
. Do I say, "one"? even though that isn't
really true? I'm a mommy to two children...one just didn't make it to my arms. Do they want to know I have two children? Will I cry? If I can say it without crying, will it be too awkward? All these questions running through my head, trying to figure out the best answer for the circumstance, taking too long to answer one simple question, probably making people wonder after I finally do stammer out my "one" answer:
What's wrong with her? It doesn't take that long to count to "one"!
My precious daughter - she doesn't know how her questions and desires make my heart hurt. Not only in missing our baby, but I hurt for her knowing she has a sibling she'll never know here on earth. My daughter is very observant. She routinely points out her little friends who have younger siblings. She asked me once, "When are we getting a boy?" She notices families at the grocery store with a loud: "Look, Mom! They have a lot of children!" She has claimed one of my bedposts as her "sister" and goes in and talks to her every so often. It hurts my heart to know that she does indeed have a sibling - in heaven - and that she will probably not have a sibling here on earth.
I think of my tears these days as a gentle summer rain. Sometimes in the summer, the sun is shining brilliantly and it starts to rain a little. The sun never really goes away, and the rain doesn't last for long. I shed a few tears here and there, but it doesn't effect my whole day. I wipe my tears away and face the rest of the day with a smile. The tears which accompanied me through the early days after my loss were similar to a dark, stormy day, where it rains and rains, and is a dark and gloomy all day long.
I'm thankful for the gentle summer tears. I'm thankful for the happy memories I have, those happy weeks we spent excitedly planning for having two little ones. I'm thankful for my sweet baby in heaven who has never known sin or the effects of sin -
and never will - always in the presence of the Lord, serving our Lord for all eternity. To think of my baby that way:
I wouldn't change anything.
