Today

Dear Jacob,

Tomorrow is one month since we lost you. I am scared of facing tomorrow. I know that I have already faced the worst thing possible and lived through it, but tomorrow will be hard. I can’t reconcile the idea that I will never see you again. How can that be? I was supposed to die before you, not the other way around.

I went to get a thank card for Rev. Mike today at lunch. It was another one of those moments that I should never have to do – find a thank you card for the minister who was so helpful when my baby died. You shouldn’t have died, I shouldn’t have been looking for a thank you card today. I should have been at Indigo in the pregnancy section reading pregnancy books and seeing what developmental changes you have made since last week. I would have been 25 weeks tomorrow. Instead your Daddy and I will be visiting the garden where you are buried.

I really hate this baby.

I hate that you are going to miss out on so many wonderful things. I know that life isn’t always easy (trust me, I know that), that there is good and bad, but the good generally outweighs the bad and I would have done everything possible to ensure that you had a good life. When I feel the sun of my face, I think of how you will never feel that. When I hear the birds singing when it is otherwise quiet, I think of how you will miss that. When I feel a soft breeze on my face on a really hot day, I think of how you will never feel that. When you Daddy hugs me, I think of how we will never hug you.

Unfair is a huge understatement. I am so so sorry that you will miss out on so much.

I just hope that things are wonderful in heaven. That you feel all of those things and more. That you have only happiness and no pain or sadness.

I had another big cry before going to sleep last night, but what else is new....

I am emotional today and I think tomorrow will be worse. When I was picking out the card, I could barely stop myself from crying in the middle of Shoppers Drug Mart. I couldn’t find one I liked and I cried walking from store to store and eventually found one at Laura Secord. It has a picture of a weeping willow on the front. I thought it was appropriate since I just want to weep all the time.

I know deep down that one day I will feel more happiness than sadness. It is hard to believe though. I wish I knew when I would get pregnant again, that I knew that the next baby would live and be healthy. I think it would make this a little easier to bear. The future is so uncertain now. I guess it always was, even before losing you, but we had such plans for our lives with you. Now all of that is gone and I don’t know if we will ever get a chance to have another baby. If we do, I know that you will be watching over him/her and that brings me some comfort. I will make sure that that baby always knows that he/she had an older brother that he/she would have loved.

I was telling Daphne the story of when Daddy and I were crossing the Brooklyn Bridge in NYC last week. I was feeling really bad while walking across the bridge. My emotions were so unstable. I couldn’t cry and I felt so full of turmoil and so hopeless. I felt like I was drowning. I told myself that those feelings would pass, that I might feel better tomorrow, but that didn’t help. Then we saw a few people sitting on the bridge. One of the girls was sitting crossed-legged with her back facing us and I saw a tattoo on her back that said “This too shall pass”. I couldn’t stop staring at it. It was the message I needed to hear right at that moment. As soon as I told Daphne, she immediately said that you arranged for that to happen. I thought that at the time and I even thanked you for it, but I love that she saw it as a message from you too.

Here is a picture from that day, probably about 20 minutes before I saw that tattoo. I still have a bit of a belly.

I love you baby and miss you so much,

Mom