On this Day

It’s October 15th.

I think blogging on this subject may help me not feel as sad as I might otherwise.

Today is National Infant Loss Awareness day. I’m happy that there’s a day where people everywhere can feel free to talk about the pain that lingers with them over losing a child in miscarriage and still birth. Since miscarriage is statistically one in four, truly every family has this as part of their story. My loss was 11 years ago. Waking this morning I of course remembered the emotional devastation that brisk sunny morning of August 15th 2007, but too I thought of what she’s missed. The baby, I somehow felt that that 7 to 10 week gestation Little One was a girl, would be in 6th grade. She’d be starting puberty, have a best friend and a favorite book series. Maybe she’d be in fast pitch, perhaps volleyball or soccer. The doctor said that losing her wasn’t my fault, that there was nothing I could have done. The amniotic fluid just wasn’t there, the sac had collapsed, there wasn’t a heartbeat anymore and I had two options. I could have a DNC or, “let the fetus pass naturally.” I said I’d go for the second option, I have to admit that I think I felt that way I’d have more time with my baby…I know that’s weird. When the baby did come, two days later, I was alone. I had three contractions, and there was the baby in my hand…so small. I rinsed him or her off and tried to see features but she or he was just too early to make out any details. Perfect though, somehow. I’m glad now to be alone in this moment as my thoughts develop only split seconds before they come out in such familiar form on the dashboard on my blog screen. I’ve sat here so many times. With each long in knowing the taste of my tears over this loss by the day longer ago. I know my heart and am not ashamed of the lingering sadness, indeed, it’s a boost in my desire for eternity where that collapsed amniotic sac doesn’t matter.

She’ll know me, and it will be as if we missed no time together. My baby did not have to experience any of the struggles that her sisters and brothers will go through. Not an argument or feelings of animosity in any form. She or he did not have the opportunity to disobey us or own a pet, or have chores around the house…I miss that, even though it never was. My baby was real, even though she died before she could live.

I miss you, baby, and will see you soon.

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