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
1 comment:
Thank you for sharing. Although it is hard as someone suffering through infertility, it's been a blessing to follow your journey of faith through loss and blessings. When I feel sadness or bitterness creep or find myself wondering when will it be our turn or will it ever... I remind myself that we each have our story written differently by our Creator for reasons I may never understand on this earth. Thank you for being faithful with the truths and gifts God has given you on your journey.
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