Wave of Light

I've dried my tears for the time being.  Thanks to your kind words and thoughts, I'm finding the strength to tentatively find my way.  I'm very uncertain, still very scared, but cautiously optimistic.

The thing is, you never forget.  It is in the past and the only way to heal is to move forward, but you never forget.  I go about my life, I don't wear a black armband of mourning, I don't have an eternal flame lit anywhere, I even smile and laugh - yet I never forget.  


Today is Pregnancy and Infant Loss Remembrance Day.  I still haven't found my footing as a pregnant person, I'm still teetering between fear of the past and hope for the future.  But I know I'm not alone.  1 in 4 - that's a lot of women who have felt what I feel.  That's a lot of tears, a lot of fear.


Words are failing me right now - I know you can't see but I just sat at the keyboard, staring at the screen.  I just did it again.


I feel like I'm being pulled away from the loss/infertility circle because I'm pregnant, but I want to call out "Don't push me away yet, don't take away my chair yet, I may need to come back.  Please don't cross your arms to me just yet, I may need them for a hug.  Please don't close the door yet, I'm not sure where I'm going."  But I turn toward the new mothers circle, knowing that I need to prepare, knowing that there is so much information that I have to learn, but I still feel hesitant and unworthy, like the new kid who isn't sure they're in the right room.  I feel like if I actually go in, I'll jinx myself and the joke will be on me and they'll be all nope, you don't belong here, not yet, go on back to the babyloss room.  Better luck next time.
......


My neighbor is pregnant - she's due in November.  I had her over one night and we talked about baby stuff.  I'm allowed to now - I have the bruises on my belly to prove it but for some reason I felt like a fraud, that we couldn't go any further without her knowing that I didn't come by this pregnancy easily, that I'd been scarred by loss.  Opening up to her allowed her to open up to me and she shared that she too had had two losses, her most recent being New Year's Day.  Talk about suck.  Seriously y'all, 1 in 4 is about right.


I know I have time to get happy and I know this whole thing is a process.  I'm trying to cut myself some slack and realize that a plus sign on a pee stick doesn't automatically make everything right with the world.  It doesn't magically erase the pain of your past.  That's why they call them rainbow babies - after you come through the storm, when you're positive that nothing is going to survive the earthquake-hurricane-tsunami-fire-devastation and you're smack in the middle, the rainbow comes out.  There's still cleanup and rebuilding and maybe some things you have to throw away because they're damaged beyond repair, but you've got that rainbow overhead to remind you that you can do it.  One step at a time.

Baby Boy 6 December 2005 - I knew in my heart you were a little boy.  I knew you'd have jet-black hair and a fat belly that I would kiss forever and ever.  I'm so sorry I couldn't have been better for you.  I'm so sorry for how things turned out.  I'm so sorry.  I'm so very very sorry.


Baby Girl (Nugget) 21 October 2009 - You were a girl, I just knew it.  You were going to have caramel skin and honey-colored hair.  Your daddy and I were so excited, we had such plans for you and we were so very very sad when you couldn't stay.  You taught me so much and I'm so very grateful to you.  Thank you.


Speck 31 March 2010 - Poor little baby.  You didn't get very far, did you?  You weren't much more than a little spot on the screen, but I had hope just the same.  Even though we didn't get much time together, really we barely met, you still made a home in my heart.  I will miss you terribly.


I love you all so very very much and I miss you often.  When your little sister or brother gets here I'll be sure to hug them extra tight and give them extra kisses just from you guys.