Tuesday, July 01, 2008


Posted by Anonymous.

48 hours from now (6/25/08) I will be broken. Beaten down, heartbroken, aching, longing, destroyed. Just for that day.

It will be your birthday. Your first birthday. I never got to meet you, but I knew you. You grew inside of me. I felt you there before I even knew for sure I was pregnant. I say, "before I knew", but I knew. I knew you were there long before I even missed my period. If I'm honest, I think I knew you were there the second you were conceived. I can't explain why, or how, but I knew. I think your father knew too. We hardly talked about it, and I haven't spoken to him in months, so I certainly can't ask him now. He doesn't understand (no one seems to) why I feel the way I do. Why I miss you, why I mourn for you.

Aside from how things ended with him and I, you were conceived in love. In the greatest love I have ever known. The kind that awakens your soul, makes you feel invincible, makes everything seem brighter and more alive. That is why it hurts so bad. You were a piece of that love that I could keep with me.

But you left me. And the only way I could describe it to him is that I feel like a failure. I feel like I failed at being a woman. We are given this incredible gift to carry life inside of us and introduce it to the world. And I couldn't do it. He pointed out, "You've done it before". At the time (and still at times), that doesn't matter. It doesn't matter that I was able to do it before. That I have a beautiful daughter. What matters is that I couldn't do it that second time.

It took a long time after you left to get back on my feet. To not walk around with this huge hole inside of me. Feeling empty and betrayed (by who, or what, I don't know). It took a long time to stop rubbing my belly, pretending I could feel you. To be honest, I still do. To make matters worse, two of my neighbors got pregnant around the same time as I did. I couldn't look at them or speak to them without choking up. I'd stare at their bellies in amazement. Thinking, "That's what I'd look like now." Now that the babies are here, it hurts to look at them. Because all I see is you. What you would have been.

I still look at photos of your sister when she was a baby. And imagine you at that age. If you would have been anything like her, you'd already be walking like a champ. Getting into anything and everything. Lighting up my life. Your sister constantly tells me she wants a baby sister. She has no idea how deeply those words wound me.

I can't talk to anyone about it. I hear the same old things: It wasn't meant to be; These things happen for a reason; You'll have another baby again someday; Mother Nature knows best. Fuck Mother Nature. Also, I don't want ANOTHER baby. I want YOU. I want you back. I know that's not possible. I know it. Just like it's not possible to have your father back. But I want it all the same. I want to know WHY. I'm tired of doctors telling me "It's not your fault. Nothing you did caused this." I don't believe it. It was MY body. My body that rejected you. Not my heart, but my body. That is something I did.

I'll be thinking about you on Wednesday. Not that I don't any other day. You're always with me. I think about you all the time. I miss you. I don't know how to move on from this. Maybe I never will.

I never got to hold you in my arms, but I will always hold you in my heart. Always. I love you my precious baby. And I'm so, so sorry.


Marty, a.k.a. canape said...

I understand, and wish you as much peace as you can find on Wednesday.

flutter said...

I understand, and I am sorry.

Major Bedhead said...

I understand. I've been there, too, and the hole doesn't go away. It does develop harder edges so things don't snag and pull at it all the time, but it's always there.

{{{hugs}}} to you.

The Frog Princess said...


You're both in my thoughts and prayers.

Anonymous said...

I understand. I wish I didn't but I do.

Anonymous said...

I miss mine too. I miss the big brother/sister my other kids never got to know, and the firstborn that never got to be born or held.

I don't talk about it much... to anyone. But eighteen years later, I still miss it. He or she would've been 18 next month.

Anonymous said...

I have not been in your situation, so I can never understand the depth of your hurt and loss. The only thing I can offer is that I hope you are able to come out of the darkness and enjoy life again. Whatever you do, don't spend years, decades even, so focused on what you couldn't help (and believe everyone when they say it wasn't your fault...really), that you miss your daughter growing up. No, you can never get back the loss of your baby, but you can also never get back the loss of time and your daughter's youth. Don't deprive your daughter of a mother. This could alter her life dramatically and she may some day resent you for it. If she's too young now to sense that you're not fully present with her, she will be old enough soon, and it could be devastating to her sense of self worth.

Take care.

Anonymous said...

When we were kids, my older sister used to have repeating dreams of a beautiful little boy - she used to think that she was dreaming of her future child. Then we found out that our mother had a miscarriage in between my sister's birth and my birth, and my sister decided that it was our brother she was dreaming of. He never got any older in her dreams.

As others have said here, a loss never really goes away, and it can re-surface in ways we've never imagined.

I am so sorry you have graceless idiots in your life that throw ridiculous platitudes at you. I wish I could throw my virtual arms around you and make those stupid "well-meaning" remarks go away.

Anonymous said...

I'm so, so sorry for your loss. I totally get it. I lost two babies in 2007 and have to try not to burst into tears every time one of my friends tells me she's pregnant. The milestones of due dates, loss dates....they stick. I wish they didn't. HUGS to you, and again, I'm so sorry.

Anonymous said...

I can't tell you it goes away, but I can tell you that it becomes easier to take. I lost my first, and as horrible and as hard as it was, if I hadn't I wouldn't have had my charming laughing son. He was born only 6months after my original due date.

I didn't get pregnant again to replace the child I lost, and nothing every could, but having my son helped me to accept that life happens as it should and that sometimes it is supposed to be painful.

Getting through the pain makes you appreciate the other side so much more. Not a lot of help now, but I hope when you do get to the other side it helps.

Anonymous said...

Now, 37 years later, the edges are blunted, but it never completely goes away, you just learn to live with it.
And you get on with your life.

Lots of hugs to you.

Anonymous said...

I wish I did not understand how deep and how painful your loss is...but with tears in my eyes, I do understand...
2 months, 2 weeks and 6 days from now will be three years that I lost mine...I still mourn for my baby who would have been my first born.
When I had my first born baby almost a year after that ( a year minus 2 days than my loss), everyone told me he is that one's soul...I don't know...I know if I had that one, I would not have my son (physically impossible you know!) and I am in love with my son...absolutely in love with him...and still I miss the one that would have been the first born....
Only the women that had this loss can understand....I do not wish this for my enemy...
My heart goes to you stranger

Anonymous said...

I also know the pain. I lost my baby girl early in my pg. Tests confirmed we had a girl. She would have been 4 yrs old this year.

Even if I found out WHY the answer would never be good enough.

You never forget really. I must also agree that I wouldn't have my son had I got to keep my girl. I love my sons.

You will move fwd for your sake and your daughter. There can be joy. You're not disowning your baby or replacing them should you have another someday soon.

If we had that much power in creating our own babies would not all the infertile couples cease to exist? Cut yourself some slack. It's a tremendous burden to carry if you think you could have stopped it. I know.

Anonymous said...

I have been exactly where you are now. It does get better, but it never goes away. I am so sorry.

People don't know what to say, so they say the things they believe will help. Try to forgive them -- you don't have to have patience, though. Just walk away.

As far as seeing those other babies: the same year my son was stillborn, I was blessed with two nephews (one a mere month older than my son), a child who because our godson, and another boy (friend's son).

You won't forget your baby. I hope you can forgive yourself, let yourself off the hook for losing him/her. That is perhaps the hardest part. I hope you can find someone to talk to: a therapist, or someone at Compassionate Friends may be able to help. Someone outside your life.

good luck. Five years later, I still write posts to my son. I understand.

And, again, I'm sorry.


Anonymous said...

I too lost the baby who would have been my first born. I know the whole in your heart that you speak of. I too have looked at pictures of my twins who were born a full 5 years later and wonder. They would have had an older brother/sister and I wonder what it would be like now. I miss that baby that never made it but I am a stronger person for my babies now because I know just how precious their lives are. Always remember you can't help the baby who is gone but you can be one hell of a mother to the children who are here while still honoring that other baby. And don't keep it a secret. Tell your other children when they are old enough to understand because they will understand and they will love that baby just as much as you do, even without knowing them.

Michelle W said...

This may be one of the most heartbreaking things I have ever read. I am so very sorry.

Anonymous said...

Depression is a hard thing to acknowledge...you are there...I was there for the same reason, so I do understand...please, go speak with someone professional. The loss never goes away (it has been 28 years for me) but you can and must move on for yourself and your family...talking to a trained professional who does not feed you the usual comments, DOES HELP...depression can kill the love you hold for your lost child...don't let it...take care of you and you will take care of your memories.