As we're just about a week away from meeting baby girl (or less should she decide to arrive on her own), I find that so many different emotions are coming to the surface. Overall, I am thrilled. I am excited. I am grateful. But it's also immensely bittersweet, and even that word does not really do justice to the vast emotional landscape that appears. There's a sense of guilt that comes with that, and I'm sure other angel moms can relate. You feel like all your heart and soul and energy should be poured into love and excitement for the arrival of your new little one. Yet, your heart and soul is torn because half of it is aching for the child that you will never bring home. It makes you question your ability to love another baby the way you love your angel. It's a struggle to find a balance when half your heart is tied to Earth and the other half tied to Heaven. I never want there to be any doubt about how much I love my rainbow. How thankful I am that God saw fit to send us another baby, that she is healthy and has stayed put long enough to grow and be born at a safe time. I have cherished this pregnancy in a way I never thought possible. I remember being pregnant with Hunter and being so sick and saying "It will be a LONG time before I do THIS again." I have been through much more physically and emotionally with this pregnancy, yet I somehow managed to find joy in the struggle. Every time I threw up, every time I had an injection, I had a whole new perspective on just how lucky I was to even be experiencing this. The flip side to that is wondering what it would have been like with Hunter. That is the bittersweet. And it will always be there. I feel sometimes like people who are outside of this little bubble, this group of people who understand because they have also lost a child, think "Get on with your life! You're having a new baby! Be happy, move on, let the past be the past!". I sometimes feel that way too. Why can't I just be in the moment and just look forward? Why does everything make me think of the child who is no longer here? Why can't I focus completely on the journey ahead, instead of the journey that "could have been"? Honestly, I have no answer. It's just the way it is. I have no doubt that as time moves on, I will find a better balance. But the saying "time heals all wounds"? It's a lie. There is some hurt that just doesn't go away. So instead of trying to force the past to stay in the past, instead of trying to block out certain emotions and feeling guilty for feeling what I feel, I'm going to continue to endeavor to embrace it all. If there was no bitter, how could I appreciate the sweet as much as I do? And I have so much "sweetness" coming, I can just feel it. I have no doubt I will struggle. I know there will be times when I will peak in on my sleeping daughter and just watch her breathe and wonder about her brother. But you know what? That's okay. I look forward to finally being able to mother my child, to have sleepless nights WITH my baby instead of sleepless nights longing for my baby. It's been an almost 18 month journey to get here, from the time we found out we were pregnant with Hunter. I know there are so many others who have waited longer and fought harder to bring home a baby, and we have been luckier than most. At the end of it all, I just want the world to know when I or another parent of an angel describe something that is usually just considered joyful and happy, like the birth of a new baby, as bittersweet, please don't think we are ungrateful, or living in the past. We live in a different reality, where life is simply...bittersweet. It just is. But because we have had so much bitter, please know how much the sweet in life is appreciated.
Wednesday, July 23, 2014
Thursday, July 10, 2014
One Year
How is it possible that a year can pass in the blink of an eye, yet move so slowly it feels like eternity? I can hardly fathom that a year ago, at this time, I laid in a hospital bed and held my son; waiting for the inevitable final word from the nurse, who repeatedly checked his heartbeat, to tell us that he was gone. That was the longest and shortest hour and forty minutes, that continued on into the longest and shortest year. I wonder if every year will feel this way, short yet long, because I know without any doubt, every year that passes will be looked at in two ways: another year further away from the last time I held my sweet boy, and one year closer to when we will be reunited. A year. I literally cannot come to terms with that. I can't help but wonder what his little personality would be like. Would he have dark hair like me? Or be a toe head like his daddy was? He looked so much like my husband, would he have had his dad's eyes too? There are so many little things that I never would have thought I'd miss until it was taken from me. All the smiles, the giggles, the different cries, the milestones of the first year...I wish we had gotten to experience them all together. I read something recently about how in French, "I miss you" translates literally to "You are missing from me." When I read that, I cried. It was so much more accurate a description of what it means when I try to express the longing a parent feels for the child that is not within their reach. I have this piece of me that is missing. I hate to say that it's empty because it's not, it's filled with love, but there's a void that is so indescribable. Even a year later, it's still there. I don't think that time heals all wounds, we really just learn to work around the injury. Time helps you gain the strength you need to adequately carry the grief, to cope with the pain. But it stays, and sometimes it rages, and sometimes it's just like a little pebble in your shoe. I'm proud of this past year and all of the learning and growing that I feel I, as well as my husband and family, have done. And I hope Hunter is proud of us too. I strive to be worthy to be his mother because I truly feel that he was so special that heaven couldn't do without him. That's not to say that I don't have my "what ifs" and question some decisions made by doctors and hospital staff, but there's just something, it could be my motherly bias saying this, but my son was incredibly remarkable. I don't think our children are sent to us for us to raise them, I think we receive these amazing, innocent beings to raise us. And I know Hunter did that for me in just his short hour and forty minute life. I hope who I am as a wife, daughter, sister, friend and mother to his younger siblings makes him proud. I hope he can look down on me and say "Yup, that's my mommy!" with so much pride. I try to live my life in such a way that I can do that for him, because I sure am proud to be his mom. Today was a very special day and I'm so thankful we were able to celebrate this baby boy with our friends and family. I felt him close all day, and I hope as we continue on this week and some of the harder memories come flooding back, that he will continue to make his presence known. I think the closer we are getting to his baby sister's arrival, the closer he will be, or maybe I will just feel it more. There's something so innately spiritual and transcendent about the birth of a new baby. Heaven and Earth blur and in that brief moment the two become one. I know Hunter will be there and I plan on having him be a very central part of the birth of his baby sister. Without him, I truly don't think we'd be having her.
Posted by Jessica at 1:20 AM 0 comments
