Here’s to You

This is my inaugural blog post, sharing real feelings from days I never knew would come to be. My hope and prayer is that these posts will reach someone going through the same type of heartache. No one should ever feel alone, but especially during a time where you are the most raw you ever have been. This will all of course be a work in progress, but I am not afraid to share the newness of these things, and I hope all the vulnerability will encourage others.

Without further ado, my first blog post:

This morning was the first morning I woke up and my first thought was not of my baby.  Almost as soon as I realized this, a wave of guilt washed over me, strengthening my confusion and weariness.  The confusion of how I can love someone so much after only knowing of them for a week and never getting the pleasure of meeting them.  The confusion of feeling simultaneously joyful that my baby gained heaven, and full of sorrow that my baby isn’t here in my arms.  This morning was the first morning I woke up and my first thought was not of my baby, but the thought now consumes my day.

Today was supposed to be a day where our fears were put at rest as we talked with a doctor and the doctor performed an ultrasound.  Today was supposed to be a day where we cried tears of joy as we heard the tiniest heartbeat of the biggest blessing.  Today was supposed to be the day we brought home the first picture of the love of our life.  Instead, today my pores are seeping out sorrow as my tears drip from my chin.  Every breath feels labored, every movement feels slow.  I feel like I’m holding back a choke with every word I speak.

As I drove into work, the weather finally matched my inner turmoil.  The rain began to come down in giant, gray drops.  I have been trying to find the joy in the small things, and was trying to be thankful for the rain we were receiving.  Rain has for a long time reminded me of my baptism—a cleansing of the sin, a washing away of the black mold.  Today the thought went through my mind of how my baby already has tasted and seen that the Lord is good.  They had already been blessed with the Lord’s Supper while in the womb.  They already were loved by many, and hopefully will be loved by many more.

I want my baby, OUR baby, Bailey, to be remembered, even if it means showing my raw heart to the world.  Bailey deserves to be remembered.  I and my husband deserve Bailey to be remembered.  Other women in the world who have loved and lost, they deserve their babies to be remembered, also, no matter how or when that loss occurred.  So, here’s to the babies we knew but never met, to the love we feel so deep, but never got to give, and for the joy we still hold on to as we remember.  Here’s to the mommies and the daddies that miss their little one and keep fighting on each day to fulfill their duties in the midst of the grief.  The strength and courage each mommy and daddy holds now deserves every cheer and salute we can give.  Here’s to you.