Loss Momma

Dear Morris,

Sometimes it's hard to be a loss mom, especially one with newborn babies. As busy as we are with the twins, I still think of you. Sometimes I look at Baylor's sweet face, and she reminds me so much of you. Once or twice I've caught myself calling Griffin by your name. Every new milestone is one that makes me sad we missed out on seeing you hit the same one.

I had a disagreement with another loss mom the other week, and sadly it ended with her deciding she no longer wanted to be friends. Our disagreement was over whether I was being insensitive to post so many pictures of the babies when I knew first-hand the struggle of infertility and loss. In the last few weeks, I've really pondered some of her comments and wondered if I have been a terrible member of the loss community. The last thing I would ever want to do is bring anyone, especially a loss mother, more pain.

The thing is, I do know the struggle. I know that desperate feeling of wanting a baby. I know the roller coaster of emotions that the 2-week wait brings. I know the hurt of seeing baby announcement after baby announcement while still waiting on your own 2 pink lines to show up. I know the longing as you pick out clothes and plan a nursery in your head for a baby that you wonder if will ever come.  I know the worry and anxiety that pregnancy brings. And I know that a heart can actually break, because mine did the moment they told me you were gone. I know the immense pain of saying goodbye to my child, of handing him over knowing it was the last time I'd ever see his face on this earth. I know the ache of empty arms. I know the envy of seeing other mothers with their bundles of joy. I know how all these things can cause bitterness to set in and how that bitterness will take over if you let it.

But I also know the unbelievable joy of seeing those tiny little blobs on that first ultrasound. I know the excitement of feeling those first flutters that later turn into jabs and kicks. I know the happiness of finally getting to pick out those clothes and decorate that nursery for real. I know the jubilant feeling of hearing your baby cry for the first time. I know the peacefulness of snuggling your baby close to you and never wanting that moment to pass.

I know all of these things, and I don't apologize for knowing any of them. I choose to tell our story, the tragic parts and the amazing parts, in the hopes that it will bring others hope and strengthen their faith. I choose to keep sharing our story because it has led to lots of new and wonderful friendships. So many people that are reading this letter are tightly woven into our story now through their prayers, support and love.

I know being a rainbow momma has changed me, but I also know that it hasn't changed the fact that I am still a loss momma.  Never is that more clear than on days like Friday when we visited Morris Park for the first time as a family, a park that bears your name but that you'll never get to play at.  Or than on days like today when we'll put up a Christmas tree with so many ornaments in your memory but that we'll miss you sitting under on Christmas morning. Nothing and no one will ever change the fact that I am a loss mom.

I miss you more each day.

Love,

Mommy

Mommy, Griffin & Baylor at Morris Park <3

It's Not All Bad

Darling Boy,

I snuggled with both your brother and sister at different points last night, and as I looked at their peaceful and angelic faces, I thought of you.  I thought of something that my cousin shared with me right after you passed away.  It was a quote that said, "And to think, the first thing he saw when his little eyes opened was the face of Jesus."  On the eve of Election Day and amid news stories about serial killers and terrorism, I found comfort in that knowledge.

I am an anxious person by default, so perhaps I should have known, but nothing could have prepared me for the anxiety that having to raise babies in this crazy scary world brings.  I'm only 33, but even I can see just how different the world is from the one I grew up in. Terrorism is everywhere - overseas and our own backyards.  Greed and evil rule the hearts of many.  Earthquakes, hurricanes and other natural disasters seem more and more frequent.  The end of times feels so very close to me.

Just the other night, as I gazed down at Griffin sleeping on my lap and tried to quiet all these thoughts rolling around in my head, I was overwhelmed by a mother's love. I asked Daddy if he thought we had been selfish by wanting to bring more lives into this messed up world. I ran down the list of all the reasons why maybe we shouldn't have.  Daddy was quiet for a moment, then he looked up from a sleeping Baylor and said, "Yeah.  But there are a lot of good things about this world too."

        

It took me a few hours of pondering it, but I've realized he's right. For now, God still hears our prayers. He continues to bless us.  There are simple pleasures I enjoyed growing up that Baylor and Griffin will also enjoy.  For them there will be Christmas mornings cozied up as a family reading about Jesus's birth, summer days playing outside, a first time seeing the majesty of the ocean, the thrill of their first bike ride, an exciting first day of school, and so many more happy moments coming. 

So while Election Day has me feeling a little sick to my stomach, I am choosing to focus on the positive today.  I am holding on to my faith in God and remembering that no matter who wins the election, and no matter what happens after its over, God is the almighty ruler in this world and in the next. And while this world is a scary place, like Daddy said, it's not all bad.

Love,

Mommy