another year without her here...

Just another year. It still astounds me. I had a daughter and she died. The only way I know it was real are the feelings inside that start to leak out. I miss her. I miss what could have been. She would be starting kindergarten in the fall. She would be wearing summer dresses. We'd be having a glorious birthday party for her, this year, on mother's day - the same day she was born. Except she wasn't. Not really. She only lived inside me. She never saw the world; its beauty, its ugliness and everything in between. I love my boys more than anything. I love them so much I could cry tears of joy that they are here and thriving. But none of this makes me miss her any less. Especially never knowing the mother-daughter experience. I can't dwell on it though. Plenty of moms have children of the same sex and won't know what it is like to have one of the other; even without a baby dying, just regular ol' roll of the dice. I can't say 'I guess I only have boys' like they do. I had a girl. She died. Boy. Girl. Boy. I've been telling strangers I have three children. I just comes out of my mouth. I don't know why. It's like my own private joke....or private fantasy. It makes me sick to my stomach to think about the passage of time. What can I do? I am here. I am still grieving. I will forever be missing her. But the hole is not dark. I have come through the tunnel. Most days I don't even stop to think about what could have been or the nightmare that was May 12-13 2007. I have to believe there is something after this, where we will see those we love again. It's the only thing that keeps me going. Happy Mother's day to all you mothers in blogland. Those with living children, those with dead children, those with both. We love, we are loved. And love is endless and timeless. *hugs to everyone* I know I need one.

Birth Day May 13, 2007 (Mother's Day)

Jessica Anne
born still May 13, 2007
8 lbs 4 oz 20.5 in

Happy 4th Birthday my Sweet Angel.

An Angel Never Dies - author unknown
Don’t let them say I wasn’t born,
That something stopped my heart,

I felt each tender squeeze you gave,
I loved you from the start.

Although my body you can’t hold,
It doesn’t mean I’m gone,

This world was worthy not of me,
God chose that I move on,

I know the pain that drowns your soul,
What you are forced to face,

You have my word, I’ll fill your arms, Someday we will embrace.

You’ll hear that it was “meant to be,
God doesn’t make mistakes”

But that won’t soften your worst blow
Or make your heart not ache.

I’m watching over all you do,
Another child you’ll bear,

Believe me when I say to you,
That I am always there.

There will come a time, I promise you,
When you will hold my hand,

Stroke my face and kiss my lips and
Then you’ll understand.

Although I never breathed your air,
Or gazed into your eyes,

That doesn’t mean I never “was”…
An Angel Never Dies.

Death Day

Easy to forget
Waiting for the tears to fall
Seems a lifetime gone

Grief again...

I've neglected this space. No, maybe I've just reserved this space for the deep down thoughts, when they reach the surface.

My friend who was instrumental in so many ways to helping me through that awful year died of cancer this month. I can't think about him without also thinking about all the times he let me just cry and feel and scream. He understood in a way no one I've met in person has. He was there for me, when my husband wasn't. Not because he didn't want to be, but because he grieved very differently. He was unbelievably kind to me. He has passed and I will miss him deeply.

This Saturday I went in and had time erased. My flabby, saggy belly, of which no exercises in the world have been able to get rid of, is now permanently gone. I had lost all the weight of all my pregnancies but the belly remained, until now. Last night, 24hours after my surgery, I took the bandages off briefly and saw my pre-child belly. I felt guilty. I have erased some of the only evidence that remained of carrying my daughter. See, evidence is very important when a child dies before birth. Otherwise it may be hard to conceive she ever existed at all. Beyond the guilt, I am feeling hopeful. I have wanted this for a very long time and I am ready to move on. I can be content that she lives on in my heart and no longer feeling like I have to explain my sagginess in terms of 3 children, when all people see is two.

We are approaching 4 years. Time has healed and scarred. I feel the ebb of time as both something dreadfully heavy, but also something that washes away, leaving one feeling lighter...