Dear Baby,
It’s been almost 51 months to the day that we said goodbye to you. You were only with us 9 short weeks, but in those 9 weeks you taught me so much about myself and life. A mother shouldn’t have to say goodbye to her child and it’s a myth to think that one can “get over” it. We don’t, but we do get through it. Slowly, sometimes with taking 2 steps forward and 1 step back. Grief cannot be overcome and although it doesn’t consume me anymore, it has touched everything I know.
In my 9 short weeks with you my heart expanded, my eyes opened, Your short life taught me that life is so precious. Your life prompted me to be thankful for every happy ultrasound and to cherish my pregnancies each and every day I had them because you never know what could happen. Thank you for teaching me not to take anything for granted. You have changed everything within me. They way I relate to others, the way I listen to politics, Jesus- you never know how much you need Him until you are at your lowest. You’ve changed my thoughts on parenting, and life’s metaphors. I just think about everything differently now. So don’t ever think your 9 weeks with us were meaningless, they made a profound impact on my life.
We found out about you on May 10th, 2016. 2 days prior my heart was racing and your Daddy actually took me to the emergency room and I told them I “could” be pregnant-I didn’t think that was a possibility but for some reason I said it. They weren’t sure what was going on with me. In retrospect it was you making my body’s blood volume double to prepare my body for a healthy pregnancy and in turn making my heart beat race. Already making your presence known. We celebrated you every day we had you. Your Grandma was so surprised when we told her the news. She was so speechless that you were coming. It’s painful and at the same time healing to look back on all the joy you created during your short life. I almost feel silly for being so happy at the time, but you were just so wonderful and I wouldn’t change celebrating you for anything.
You were playfully given the name Alexander though we couldn’t know if you were a boy or a girl. Your brother Caleb now holds that as a middle name as a little ode to you. Plus your Dad just loves that name. It was supposed to take us a while to get pregnant with you, a few health complications with me meant fertility treatments and the potential for us to never get pregnant. But there you were, 2 little pink lines. Your dad didn’t believe it at first. I took dozens of pregnancy tests that covered every surface in our bathroom and he finally got the hint- but he had to get them out of my view the day we found out you didn’t have a heartbeat. They sit in a box now with your ultrasounds and cards.
Losing you was the hardest thing I have ever gone through. I’ve learned though that grief is just love that has no where to go. I had all this love for you, but you were gone. If miscarriage is one thing, it is lonely. The people close to you understand and have nice things to say, but as the weeks went by everyone and thing goes back to normal. Kind of like I had the flu or something. I’ve never felt so lonely. No one understood. I just wanted to stay home and watch TV and cry. People wanted to get together and have normal conversations and I was screaming on the inside, yet faking smiles and telling everyone I was “fine”. No one knew what to say to me and your dad. I was feeling anything but normal. I no longer had you, how could I just be ok? Depression set in and your dad suggested therapy. It was the best thing I did to get a hold of my feelings and get back on my feet emotionally. It gave me the tools to help your dad help me. Dads sometimes aren’t good at that kind of thing and therapy helped us tremendously through your loss and in the midst of failing fertility treatments in the months following.
I wore a necklace with the Bible verse “ The pain you are feeling can’t compare to the joy that is coming.” Romans 8:18. Gosh if that isn’t the truest thing. On the back I had it engraved with a heart and a little A. Somehow thinking you’d stay with me if I wore it everyday. I wore it for months and now sits in a special box. That necklace got me through some really tough days.
We planted a tree in your honor, did you know that? A Crepe Myrtle. Your Dad and I went to the local nursery and it took me hours to finally pick the perfect one. I think the employees were getting annoyed with us for taking so long, but to me it was so important. It was the only thing we’d ever buy for you. It had to be perfect. We planted it in the backyard. Our sweet friend Andrea took some photos of us and Caroline with your tree, isn’t that sweet?
We moved about a year ago (4 doors down-aren’t we the craziest?) and one of the reasons I didn’t want to leave Blakeway Drive was because of your tree. I begged your Dad to uproot it and take it with us. I felt like it had to come with us and it felt a little like we’d leave you behind if it didn’t. He told me that your tree would probably die being transferred and it was best to keep it where it was. He was probably right, so we left it. I’m happy though that every time we leave and come back into our neighborhood we can see it. We check on it all the time that little tree of yours. It blooms the prettiest flowers every summer. I love that it reminds me of beautiful things happening after darkness every time it blooms (Caroline and Caleb after you) I think it’s true that time is the greatest healer. The pain is still there and I won’t lie to you and say it will go away, it won’t. It’s not as overwhelming anymore though-more of a dull ache. The sharpness comes back every once in a while. When I hear of a friend or acquaintance going through the same thing it gives me a sudden flashback that feels like I’m getting stabbed in the heart. Earlier this year I was working a wedding and was getting an iPod ready to play music for the guests during cocktail hour. The first few notes of the song When A Heart Breaks by Ben Rector started playing and it instantly brought back all the feelings of losing you. It was so random and sudden- and awful. That song is forever engrained in my memory as a reminder of losing you. I listened to it on repeat during the time we said goodbye to you. I guess I turned to music instead of other people during that time and this song’s lyrics in particular explain exactly what it felt like.
For the most part my heart has moved passed the pain, but yes, it will always be there and I will forever have little reminders of you like that song, or when I’m filling out doctor’s forms and have to write how many pregnancies I’ve had and I need to write 3. or when somehow a marketing email from a baby website listing your due date somehow makes it to my inbox despite me blocking them. Is this you just popping in to say hello?
A lot has changed in the last 2 years. We have Caroline Harper and Caleb Alexander. Irish twins, can you believe it? It takes me back to the Bible verse I mentioned above. They are 15 months and 3 months. Every time I see a toddler that looks about what your age would be though, my heart tightens a little. What would you look like? What would you love to eat? What would make you laugh? Would you look like me or Daddy? The thing that hurts the most isn’t what happened, but knowing that we will never know what could have been. Wrapping my head around the harsh reality that we would never meet you is still fresh. I would have loved to be your mommy. It’s tough to try and understand why you couldn’t stay. I will always wonder.
It took a while to get pregnant with Caroline and it was hard going into ultrasounds knowing our hearts could be crushed again so quickly. It’s true what they say that miscarriage rips most if not all joy from a subsequent pregnancy. It’s terrifying, but all was good. Caroline is the sweetest little girl. And as weird as it is to say that she wouldn’t be here if we didn’t lose you, you would have loved her. I can’t help but think you had something to do with choosing her and your brother for us. Caleb was a big fat surprise, which in a funny way reminds me of you. The two biggest surprises of my life were my positive pregnancy tests with you and Caleb. Caroline was just 3 months old when we got pregnant by surprise with Caleb. He’s 3 months now and just the smiliest of babies. Our life as a family of 4 is truly a gift, but I never forget about you. Ever.
I think you’ll be happy to know that in general the topic of miscarriage and child loss has been brought more to the surface. More women are talking about it more than ever and not feeling so alone. There are more support group and it’s not as taboo to talk about. After we lost you I read other’s stories on the internet for hours and hours. It was so helpful to me to read relatable stories and I will always be thankful to the women who shared them, they’ll never know how much they helped me. That’s why I share your story. To keep your memory alive and if I can help one person feel less alone then I’ve done my job.
My Dear Alexander- you are so loved, please know that. I’m so sorry you couldn’t grow and stay here. Thank you for making me a better person and mom. I will always carry you in my heart. Always and forever.
Love,
Mommy xoxo
For those facing the reality of miscarriage. Know that you are not alone. I see you. No words can help, but know that you will get through it and that there is joy coming.
