Mouths to feed

Dear Leo,

Yesterday, I went to a work happy hour and people were talking about trips. At one point someone said that I'm lucky that I don't have to worry about mouths to feed when in traveling, that I can sleep in and eat when I want. 

These people look back at the time they had no kids and remember their freedom. I, however, look back at the day I lost you and feel trapped. What I wouldn't give to have to feed you and be awoken by your crys!

Last weekend, your dad and I had a little weekend getaway in Vancouver, BC. It was lovely. I have many trips planned for us this summer and I think it's because I don't want to constantly be thinking of what the summer would have been like with you or I don't want to feel what it will be like without you. I just feel like running away from this reality I'm stuck in.

Photo taken on the train during our Vancouver trip 

Six months without you

My dearest son,

It's been six months. It's hard to even grasp that thought. 6 months since you were born, 6 months that I've been a mother, 6 months since you died. 

In a certain way, time has gone by so fast. I can remember the fear I felt the day you were born, the worry that I experienced. It was the first time that I really worried about you. It was the first time I thought of the possibility of losing you. My memories of that day are so clear. It's painful to remember certain parts of it. Like going into the hospital not knowing what was going on. Or giving you to the nurse and watching her take you away...to the morgue. 

In another way, it feels like a lifetime has gone by since you came into our lives. I feel like a completely different person. I've gone through so much, felt so much pain, felt so many new things in the past few months. I think I've grown older, wiser and perhaps a little more cynical. I've got more grey hair too. I blame you for that Leo, just like my mom blamed me for all her grey hairs. :)

What can I say to you right now? You changed my life. I want to say that you changed it for the better because your loss did lead to a few positive things that wouldn't have happened otherwise. But it's still hard for me to convince myself that this happened for the best. I am still wiping tears off my face and comforting your dad in the middle of the night...how can losing you be for the best? I am still searching for an answer.

In the meantime Leo, happy half birthday.  I love you and am already thinking of ways in which we'll celebrate your 1st birthday. 

Ta maman qui t'aime fort.

I wish I had the world's toughest job

This video has been going around social media.  Take a look.

It's really beautiful and of course, makes all of us think about our moms. But the first thought I had was how much I would like to have this job right now. If everything had gone as planned, Leo would have been born on Feb 13, 2014 and would be 2 months old now. All I can do is imagine how he would have been, what it would have been like to be a real mother to him.

The video is a reminder of mother's day and how important it is to show your mom how much you appreciate her. I'm getting a little anxious about it though. May 11, 2014 is going to be my first Mother's Day. I'm mentally preparing myself for seeing pictures of all my mommy friends get pampered and loved by their kids. What should I do? How do I celebrate this day? I did give birth, I do have a son, but he is not here. I love him so much, but I'm not really being a mother to him. In fact, he's gone because my body didn't work as it should have, he's gone because of me. Should I even celebrate this day? I couldn't even bring him to this world safely....I couldn't even do that right! Do I deserve to even be called a mother?

Children are Fleeting

My dearest son,

Every now and again I see, hear or think of something that makes me think "oh, I should write about that." Days go by and I end up forgetting. So sometimes I just come here and start writing and then see where that takes me. Today is one of those days. 

Your dad and I went to the tulip festival in Northern Washington last weekend. There were so many families, so many kids. We are rarely surrounded by so many. It was beautiful to see the young kids run through the rows of tulips, see them pose for pictures and marvel at all the colors they were witnessing. It was also sad when I realized that I'll never see you do any of that. 

I read a quote today that made me think of you. "Sunsets, like children, should be viewed with wonder, not just because they are beautiful, but because they are fleeting."  - author unknon 

Fleeting...I'm too familiar with what that means. I know that you are with me. I just wish I could also be with you. 

It Did Happen

Dear Leo,

Yesterday, as I was walking home from work I felt that losing a baby couldn't have happened to me. It sometimes does feel like it happened to someone else. It's just too awful for it to have happened to me. 

This feeling is pretty surreal. For a split second I forget that we went through this. It feels like a bad dream. The return to reality is always harsh: "our baby did die". Take in those words "our baby died". It sounds so horrible...It feels even worse.

This is the Happiest Story in the World with the Saddest Ending

My dearest baby, 

I almost didn't go to the support group tonight. I felt like I had enough of being sad and being surrounded by sad people and sad stories. Like someone once said, "something tragic happened to me, but I don't want my life to be a tragedy." Ironically, this was said during one of my support group meetings. 

But I did go. Everyone goes around telling their stories and sharing the hard moments they had since our last meeting. We sit in a circle. We start by saying "Hi, my name is _______and I lost my baby on such and such date". It's like an alcoholics anonymous meeting, except that we all understand that we will never recover from this.  While we were going around, each person sharing their own stories, I started to get nervous. "What am I going to say? I'm feeling pretty good these days, I have nothing to share."

It's funny how I can even fool myself into thinking that I am doing ok. I told my group about how I am surprised at things that will trigger my emotions and make me cry. I shared with them the story of my friend whose baby registry contains some of the same clothes I bought for you. As I was sharing that story, I began to cry and had a hard time finishing what I was saying. I know it makes zero sense. People who have never lost a child must think I'm crazy. And yes, I know that everyone shops for baby clothes at Amazon.com and Carter and that I would eventually have seen a baby wearing the same clothes you were supposed to wear. I don't know what it is about this that upsets me so much. They are just clothes. When I bought them, I thought you'd look so adorable in them - but you never got to wear them. 

One of the loss books I read recently had a line that said "this is the happiest story in the world, with the saddest ending." That's your story Leo. Announcing your arrival brought so much happiness to so many people around us. But this is a sad ending. The story has ended, but the pain is still here. 

I love you.