I know it’s time to make progress on them. But it’s hard to dream now. It’s hard to have hope. It’s hard to believe that anything good is meant for me. Because every time I’ve started to feel positive about the future, another thing was taken from me.
I don’t talk about this often.
And to be very honest, I haven’t spent much time hurting over it either.
Sometimes I’ve wondered if something is wrong with me.
How can it be that two of my siblings died, and I rarely shed a tear for them?
Sometimes babies die.
But that love still lives on.
Not just for a few months.
Not just for the first year.
I sat at a large table in a conference room. I knew I was there for bad news. I knew it as I followed the nurse down the hall. Before they even began, they asked about the death of my first son. My third-born was across the hospital, hooked up to countless machines, keeping him alive. They were about to show me scans of his brain. I was about to see a gray mass of inactivity….
But before they told me he was dying….
Before sharing that there was nothing else they could do….
They asked about my firstborn.
I know this is probably going to sound absolutely nuts, but I really miss the days when I only had one dead baby. It sounds morbid, but please know I don’t say it lightly. Of course I would rather have all three of my boys here. But after some time had passed from Lincoln’s death,… Continue reading Two
Dear Mommy Friend, Month after month, I see your milestone updates. I see your photos and development charts: lists of all of the exciting new things that your baby is doing. I’m watching your baby grow, and wishing mine was still here to do the same things. You’ve probably noticed that some months, I put… Continue reading Your Baby Got to Stay
I remember how it felt so clearly. I was sitting in an office at a funeral home. I had just signed a piece of paper to approve my firstborn son’s cremation. A page that allowed my son’s body to be turned to ash in an instant. It was a terrible feeling. I was making decisions… Continue reading One More Time
When I went to the funeral home after Lincoln died, the employee there told me that they offered a discount on their chapel for memorial services for babies. I instantly said no. I was so overwhelmed by all of the things I needed to do. I was in so much shock that I was even… Continue reading Service
It’s 2:30am and I’m wide awake. Wishing you were here, squirming and making your cute grunting sounds while I mix up your bottle. There’s so much empty space in my room now. Your bassinet is gone. And the crib you were supposed to grow into. Some nights I’m too exhausted not to sleep. But other… Continue reading Empty
My living son is two years old. It’s a little difficult to know how much he understands about death. Though he’s never met him, he’s talked to Lincoln’s picture since he was a tiny baby. Losing Liam was a bit different, but I’m not sure exactly what he’s thinking. I’m always trying to figure out… Continue reading Dear Big Brother