My dearest son Leo,
Yesterday marked 3 weeks since you were born. Your existence in this world, as ephemeral as it was, left an everlasting mark on my life. I don't think anything in my life has ever been so wonderful, so powerful and so difficult as your birth and death.
Yesterday, while I was at work, I texted a friend of mine and told her about you. Her reply was "that's fucked up!" I think that's the best reply I've gotten so far. It is fucked up! That is exactly what it is!!! For some reason, I have a harder time writing about it than talking about it. So, I started to tear up and ran to the restroom. The last thing I want is to cry in front of my coworkers and be seen as the 'sensitive girl'. I was surprised at how fast the tears came and how hard I cried in the restroom stall. It felt good to let it all out. I then wiped my tears, looked at myself in the mirror, and went back to work.
I got a call from a friend earlier this week. We haven't seen each other in years, because we live so far apart, but we keep in touch. Last week, she emailed me asking how my pregnancy was going and I told her what happened. I often find that, when telling others what happened or when telling them about you, I need to be the strong one. I know people ask about you because they want to be nice. They call to see how I am and I know that's a little uncomfortable for them. So I feel that I need to be strong so that they're less uncomfortable.
Yesterday, I started thinking about joining a support group for parents who have lost a baby through miscarriage, stillbirth or infant death. The thought of talking to strangers makes me a little nervous, but at the same time, I think it will be easier to talk to strangers. Plus, maybe it will be good to hear other people's stories and share mine with people who truly understand what I'm going through. I know that most of my colleagues, friends and family think that I'm over it already. Sometimes, I too think I'm over it, but then sadness and pain hits me like a truck - such a heavy load.
Last night, I was in bed, reading my bereavement book and I felt so sad. I took the little hat you were wearing at the hospital and fell asleep with it, clenched between my fingers....but eventually, that too slipped away from me.
Yesterday marked 3 weeks since you were born. Your existence in this world, as ephemeral as it was, left an everlasting mark on my life. I don't think anything in my life has ever been so wonderful, so powerful and so difficult as your birth and death.
Yesterday, while I was at work, I texted a friend of mine and told her about you. Her reply was "that's fucked up!" I think that's the best reply I've gotten so far. It is fucked up! That is exactly what it is!!! For some reason, I have a harder time writing about it than talking about it. So, I started to tear up and ran to the restroom. The last thing I want is to cry in front of my coworkers and be seen as the 'sensitive girl'. I was surprised at how fast the tears came and how hard I cried in the restroom stall. It felt good to let it all out. I then wiped my tears, looked at myself in the mirror, and went back to work.
I got a call from a friend earlier this week. We haven't seen each other in years, because we live so far apart, but we keep in touch. Last week, she emailed me asking how my pregnancy was going and I told her what happened. I often find that, when telling others what happened or when telling them about you, I need to be the strong one. I know people ask about you because they want to be nice. They call to see how I am and I know that's a little uncomfortable for them. So I feel that I need to be strong so that they're less uncomfortable.
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| This is the little hat you were wearingat the hospital |
Last night, I was in bed, reading my bereavement book and I felt so sad. I took the little hat you were wearing at the hospital and fell asleep with it, clenched between my fingers....but eventually, that too slipped away from me.
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