May 14, 2015
This kind of experience either break you or make you. I keep telling and reminding myself that I won't let it break me. #twinloss #neonatalloss #angelbabies
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This kind of experience either break you or make you. I keep telling and reminding myself that I won't let it break me. #twinloss #neonatalloss #angelbabies
"I have accepted that my daughter died, but I’m not sure I can ever accept that she never got to live. I held her inside me and loved her every moment, at least she knew my voice…but she never saw the sky. She never dipped her toes in the ocean. She never felt my fingers through her hair or my nose nuzzling hers. She never even saw my face. She never spun around so fast she fell dizzily to the ground or tasted ice cream mixed with chocolate and caramel. She never ran so fast her breath ran out. She never felt butterflies before a long awaited kiss. She never held the life of her own child inside her. She never fell in love.
Death has taken so much."
My Baby
I want my baby. My friend's baby is one week old today, and another friend is starting to actually look pregnant at 20 weeks. I should be 30 weeks now. I should be able to feel my baby squirming around all the time. I should be big and round like a balloon about the burst, waddling from the couch to the bathroom every 20 minutes to use the toilet.
But I'm not.
My baby is gone. She isn't inside me squirming like crazy; she hasn't been for seven weeks now. Instead, her ashes are in held in a small blue bag in a box that has a smell I hate. The ashes are so few that the bag seems empty, and every time I get close enough to that box, the smell takes me back. It reminds me that this is real, this is my life, and I'm never going back. I may feel another precious baby squirming around in my tummy some day, but I'll never feel Janelle again, never admire my growing belly as she gets bigger, never get to take her one-week-old picture, never hold her hand and see her smile.
I want to go back. I want to be uncomfortable because of the new life growing inside me. I want to surrender my life to taking care of hers. I want to smell that new baby scent and even dirty diapers instead of a memory box. I want to see Janelle's smile and talk about who she looks like and who she'll grow up to be. I want my baby.
Dear Janelle,
But I'm so glad that I have those memories.