Last Love

Tonight, I watched a movie called "Last Love". The main character, Matthew Morgan, is a recent widower who is trying to find a way to live now that he's alone. Approximately halfway through the movie, he said something that struck me. It was so beautiful, so poetic, so touching - tears started streaming down my face. I rewound the movie and listened to it again and decided it needed to be written down.

It so beautifully portrays how I feel at times. Here's an excerpt:

Sometimes you meet someone who requires all the love you have to give.And if you lose that someone, you think everything else is going to stop too.But everything else just keeps on going. Giraudoux said, "You can miss a single being, even though you are surround by countless others."  
Those people are like....extras. They cloud your vision. They are meaningless crowd. They are unwelcomed distraction. So you seek oblivion in solitude. But solitude only makes you wither. 

Unexpected Acts of Kindness

I spent so much time being disappointed at friends and family who haven't been there for me. Disappointed at those who heard the news and never called me. Disappointed at those who called once and never called nor emailed again. Disappointed at those who are still in touch with me but pretend nothing has happened.

For every person I have been disappointed with, there has been someone who surprised me with a random and unexpected act of kindness.

People in my church have been so supportive, people I never even talked to before losing Leo. They have shared their own stories of lost, they have hugged me, they have squeezed my hand when they sensed I was going through a tough moment. 

The florist near my place, gave me a dozen roses on Valentine's day, the day after Leo's due date. He just grabbed them from this buckets of flowers and said "this is for you guys." It took me everything I had to not cry right there in front of him. A few days later I gave him a thank you card and he hugged me saying he really likes us.

People we don't even know, but who have heard our story email us saying "you don't know me, but I've been through this too and I'm thinking of you."

These are small but meaningful gestures. Random acts if kindness coming from random people all around us is what gives me faith in humanity. 

It's not such a bad world after all.

Four Months

Dear Leo,

It's strange to think that 4 months have already passed by since you were born. To me, it already seems like a lifetime. The past few months have, without a doubt, been the toughest months of my life. Maybe that is why it seems like so much time has gone by. When you're having a good time, time seems to fly by. When things are tough, everything slows down, every molehill seems like a mountain, every second without you seems like years.

When you died, I was only 23 weeks. I kept keeping track of my 'would be pregnancy'. Every week I would tell myself "I would have been 30 weeks", "I would have been 36 weeks", and so on. I missed having you in my belly. I felt sad for not being able to experience what most pregnant women do: feeling you doing somersaults, feeling your hiccups, knowing when you're sleeping and when you're awake. I did that until about 40 weeks. But now that your due date has passed, I feel sad for what would have been. For example, if you were here right now, I would probably be watching you sleep, I would probably be taking millions of pictures of you, but be too busy or too tired to post any of them.

Yesterday, someone told me that they loved the picture I posted of you on Facebook. That made me so happy. Most people look at your picture and just feel sad or sorry for me. When they see you, they see what I've lost. So it was nice to hear someone say that you looked so cute - it's nice to hear someone acknowledge your existence rather than your lost.

I wish you were here.

Seek beauty in everything you see

That is how I am trying to live my life these days. It is so easy to see the negatives and the ugly. It's so easy to say "this is an awful day", "I am fat, I am ugly", "my life sucks". It's also easy to be constantly disappointed with others and think "why is everyone pretending this never happened?", "why didn't anyone call?".

When life is unfair to us, it's easy to be angry. It feels good to hate the word, hate everyone around us, hate everyone who is realizing their dreams while yours came crushing down. Staying positive is hard and it takes a lot of energy, frankly, it's exhausting. 

After Leo died, I realized how precious life is. Not everyone gets to live as long as I have. Not everyone has the opportunity to enjoy it. So, why not focus on the beautiful things that surround us? Why not see the beauty in people instead of focusing on their faults or failures?

Of course, it's easier said than done and some days, it seems like there's nothing worth celebrating. But we should all give it a try. Enjoying little moments, thinking positively, seeking beauty in everything we see - that's my goal this week.

Today, it's grey outside. But it's a nice winter day. The kind of day where winter doesn't seem so bad. Today is a good day.

You'll have more babies...

How do I respond to people who tell me "don't worry, you'll have more babies"? I know they are trying to be encouraging, trying to be comforting, trying to be nice. I know they don't realize that, instead of helping, they're hurting me, they're angering me, they're devaluing your life. 

What do I say to this? I've tried to respond and I must admit that sometimes, my response is not exactly kind. I'm struggling. How do I tell them that you are not replaceable? How do I tell them that no one, not even another baby, will make things better? No one will ever be you, replace you or make me forget you.

It is so strange to me. When you lose a spouse, no one says "don't worry, you can re-marry" When you lose a 10 year old child, no one will dare say "you can have another kid". People don't even say that about pets...imagine: "sorry your dog died; you can buy another one right?" No one says that. 

What is it about babies that make people think that a new baby can replace the one that died? Is it because their lives were so short? Do they believe their existences are insignificant? 

Perhaps, if I had not gone through this loss, I would have said that too. But here's something I learned on October 22, 2013: the love you feel for your child is immense and unconditional. I didn't expect to fall so deeply in love with Leo right at the moment I held him and I didn't expect this love to grow even after he left us. My love for Leo is what makes him irreplaceable. I could never love anyone the way I love him. 

Today is your due date

Dearest Leo,

You were supposed to be born today, February 13, 2014. I had a different vision of what this week would look like. I imagined preparing my hospital bag, making sure we know how to operate a car seat, making sure your crib is all set up and beautiful, that we have enough diapers, clothing, and the other million things I needed to take good care of you. I imagined being so big, so uncomfortable, so impatient, so anxious, so excited about meeting you...but probably a little scared about giving birth - probably deciding that, I didn't want to go into labor after all.

Never could I have imagined that I would be sitting here, with empty arms, with the crib still its box, the baby clothes tucked away in a drawer that hasn't been opened in a while and an aching heart.

I decided to post something about your life on Facebook today. I had never announced my pregnancy on Facebook. I had never announced your birth nor your death. But today, I wanted to honor you in some way. So I shared it with the world. I put it out there that you came and that you left.

I'm not sure if I sometimes tell myself great things about you, just as a coping mechanism...but I do feel, Leo, that your short life has had a tremendous impact not only on our family, but many people around us. I decided to speak up, to tell the world that not every pregnancy leads to a healthy, living baby, that the pain of losing a child is real and should not be a taboo. I've been overwhelmed by stories that have been shared with me today. So many babies, so many losses, so many heartaches. It's depressing, no wonder people don't talk about it - but it's all too real and we shouldn't just sweep this under the rug.

So many strong women, women whom I admire have come to me to tell me that they admire my courage, my strength. I owe all this strength to you Leo; after all, your name does mean "lion-strong" or "lion-hearted". Oh and how this name suits you!

Leonardo - I think I would have called you by your full name whenever I would have had something serious to tell you. So here goes: Leonardo, you have made me a better version of myself. I do have my moments of failure, moments where all I want to do is be angry, scream at some innocent soul, give a piece of my mind to mean-spirited parents... But, in the 62 minutes that you were with us,  you have thought us many important lessons.

Life is short. Life is precious.
 I am grateful for all that I have. 
I am grateful for you. 

Due Date Approaching

My dear Leo,

I should be 39 weeks pregnant right now, making final arrangements, making sure we have everything ready for you. I should be huge, I should be resting ice cream bowls on my belly, asking for help to tie my shoes. I should be excited, nervous, impatient to see you. I shouldn't be sad, I shouldn't be crying for you, I shouldn't be mourning you.

I know a due date is just an estimation of when you should have come. You might have been born a little before or a little after....but your due date represents the date that my life would have changed. It represents the time I would have gone from being a carefree adult to a worried mom. But mostly, it represents the time that I would be holding you in my arms, feeding you, signing to you, bathing you, changing you.

It's been less than 4 months that you came and left but it feels like a lifetime. I am just going through the motions: wake up, eat, go to work, come home, eat, sleep. I've become pretty good at that. People who meet me have no idea of what happened to me, they have no idea that I went through the most tragic thing in my life, they have no idea that I'm hurting.

I know I shouldn't define myself by your loss. I shouldn't be known as the woman who lost her baby. But in a way, I want people to know. It's the only way they'll know that you were here, that you existed. Why shouldn't I talk about you when others talk about their own children?

I miss you Leo. I wish you were here.