For months, I haven't done any work to help myself through my latest crisis of losing our fifth baby. I simply sat back, felt sorry for myself and let life happen around me. Nearby. It was after, on March 16, I cried all day and let the pain and loss rush through me that I wrote this letter that served as a gateway to the other side of this thing:
Dearest Sister in Law –
I wanted to write to you and say some things that I just can’t really say face to face right now. Since Ken’s and my loss last Spring, we decided to not try to conceive another child. I have continued to grieve the loss of the baby we conceived as well as the loss of another child in the future. I do believe that parenting [only] our three [living] children is [logically] "best" for our family. We are overextended and stressed out as it is, and I feel our children would benefit from as much as we can offer them at this point. Still, I continue to feel a great loss for the baby we lost and feel a void in our family that I can't seem to move beyond.
I pretty much had an emotional meltdown all of last summer, then my due date (11/28) and the holidays were very, very difficult for me. It was in the midst of feeling this immense loss that you announced your pregnancy and, while I was and continue to be thrilled for you and for our entire family, it was difficult for me to hear.
Our loss in 2007 was excruciating, but I view Juleana as "special". I feel that she was sent to us through our lost baby. She's our Rainbow Baby. I don't have that with my second loss. No happy ending - Only what would have been, and I don't know how to move through it. I am moving forward - focusing on my kids, graduate school, and my marriage. I'm excited about my life. I can honestly say I don’t want to begin a new pregnancy, but I wish I would have been able to complete the last, and your pregnancy reminds me of what I lost and what I’ll never have the chance to finish.
I pretty much had an emotional meltdown all of last summer, then my due date (11/28) and the holidays were very, very difficult for me. It was in the midst of feeling this immense loss that you announced your pregnancy and, while I was and continue to be thrilled for you and for our entire family, it was difficult for me to hear.
Our loss in 2007 was excruciating, but I view Juleana as "special". I feel that she was sent to us through our lost baby. She's our Rainbow Baby. I don't have that with my second loss. No happy ending - Only what would have been, and I don't know how to move through it. I am moving forward - focusing on my kids, graduate school, and my marriage. I'm excited about my life. I can honestly say I don’t want to begin a new pregnancy, but I wish I would have been able to complete the last, and your pregnancy reminds me of what I lost and what I’ll never have the chance to finish.
*Exhale* - I wanted to tell you how I feel because I love you and don’t want you to mistake my distance for indifference. This is my issue, and I’m dealing the best I can. Please know I adore you guys and your little one on the way, and I’m sorry I haven’t been more excited or supportive.
There. I did it. I owned my feelings. I've embraced them, taken away their power, and let them be a part of me. A part I can live with and no longer fear.
Our Baby Mic is a part of who I am, she's a part of our family and our history, and we'll see her whole someday. Until then, I will be grateful that I held her for seven weeks.
What is coming up is a story of a woman who is not defined by marriage, though you'll read about that; not defined by motherhood, though you'll read about that; not defined by her education, though you'll read about that; not defined by her career, though you'll read about that. Not defined at all. A woman who has yet to show the world what she has up her sleeve. Stay tuned.
