Dear Jacob,
I miss you. I want you back. Your Dad and I have had a very hard 3 weeks, since we found out that your little brother or sister didn't make it. This baby seemed touched by you, since we found out that I was pregnant on your due date. I felt like the two of you were connected. I hope you are together now.
I started miscarrying on Friday night and finished the big stuff on Saturday night. Parts of it gave me flashbacks to being induced to deliver you. The worst time, emotionally, was last night. I just started crying when your Grandma kept talking about Laurie being pregnant. She says that to me all the time. I know that my sister is pregnant and I am so happy for her, and scared for her and I hope and pray that her baby lives. I don't want her to be a babyloss Mom like I am. I want Ben to have a sibling on earth, not in Heaven. Having a cousin in heaven is enough, don't you think? Anyway, I had to ask your Grandma to stop telling me that because it hurts. She only slipped up twice today.
I kept crying last night. Both while I was still talking to your Grandma and when I got off the phone. I went to bed, thinking I would fall asleep fast since I only slept an hour, if that, the night before. But I lay there and cried for you. I held your ultrasound picture that is always on my bedside table and stared at your beautiful face and talked to you. Did you hear me? Did you hear me tell you how much I love you and miss you and want you? Could you see how broken I was, lying there and just wanting you?
I did fall asleep after awhile. I clutched your blanket so tight last night baby. It was always next to my face. If only it was your soft, sweet baby skin that was against my cheek, instead of the blood stain left on the blanket. But it is what I have and I am so grateful for it. I am so grateful for you too.
I miss you,
Mom
Our sad ticker
4 comments:
I read your other post and then this one. Wish I could wrap you in love and hugs. Or wrap Jacob up in that blanket and put him back in your arms where he belongs.
The phrase I'm sorry is so inadequate, but I am sorry for everything you have gone through this year.
I'm sure Jacob heard you last night. I believe our babies hear our voices every time we speak to them or about them.
The hurt just seems to get worse, doesn't it. As if time is playing some sort of joke on us. One minute we are weeks and months away from our child's death, then we are right back in that moment, trying to breath and not die ourselves. I am so sorry, which is really a poor excuse for so many words that I wish would make you feel better, but I know cant' and won't.
I am thinking of you and wishing that we all could at least reach out physically and hug one another when we so desperately need it.
I am so sorry for your losses. I wish I had words to comfort. Thinking of you.
Thank you for your work on the gift exchange.
I don't know what to say...except I'm so sorry for what you've gone through, and I'm sending you good thoughts.
Post a Comment