Hi, Baby

CW: miscarriage

Hi Baby,

It’s been five days since I last wrote to you. It feels like it’s been much longer than that.
It’s raining and thundering right now. The sky is really dark. It makes me want to lie in bed and do nothing.
I missed you a lot last night and I thought about what your face would have looked like. I wondered if you would have looked like Daddy or like Mommy. Or maybe something in between.

I wish I didn’t have to wait so long to see what you look like. Maybe that’s a blessing…maybe it would be harder to ‘move on’ from this if I knew the sound of your voice and your giggle, or the color of your eyes. The unknown still hurts me, though.

I wonder what Heaven looks like, filled with the faces of babies that were never held by their parents. Will we know it’s you when we see you? If I linger on this question for too long the hopefulness of seeing you is overshadowed with the sadness of not seeing you in this lifetime. Still…I wonder what name God has given you and what you’re doing while I lie in bed trying not to feel so very sad that you’re gone. My heart aches and I gasp out quiet sobs. Sometimes the tears well up, stuck on the edges of my lashes, and other times they spill over and soak my pillow. Last night was the latter, and today is the former. Every day comes with moments of normalcy and laughter alongside moments of melancholy and tears.

I have so many questions to ask you. So many things I wish I could learn about you. I miss feeling a sense of connection when I put my hand on my abdomen. It didn’t seem real…I didn’t see any physical changes. All that allowed me to know you were there growing was my loss of appetite so my appetite returning has been bittersweet. Beef doesn’t repulse me anymore…but I don’t think I’ll be ready to eat it for a little while longer. I could eat sushi or the Italian hoagie I wanted so badly…but I don’t think I will. I’m not ready to remove the one thing that made me feel like I was actually on this pregnancy journey.

Even though feeling sad and lethargic is depressing, I’m thankful when these moments descend on me. These emotions make me think, ‘I’m not moving on from my baby too quickly.’ Maybe I’m just being naive in thinking that I could ever ‘get over’ this. Maybe it’s just a matter of slowly moving forward without forgetting the meaningful moments of this first pregnancy. I’m sure one day it will be a memory that is tinted with a light shade of sadness, with other shades peaking through. Shades of growth and maturity and even happiness.

Writing that last sentence chokes me up. Happiness seems like a farfetched possibility right now. But I’ll leave that word there anyway. I didn’t know how much I loved you already until you weren’t here anymore. And I know that God loves you even more than I do…He’ll take care of you even though I can’t.

I love you always.