I will always wonder who you would have become

"I don't think most people understand how much is truly lost when a baby dies.  You don't just lose a baby, you lose the 1 and 2 and 10 and 16 year old she would have become.  You lose Christmas mornings, and loose teeth, and first days of school.  You just lose it all".

This is a quote I found on pinterest, that quite simply summarizes all of the hurt, anger, sadness, pain, and confuson behind a stillbirth, in my case, or pregnancy/infant loss in general.  People think, you didn't know them, in some cases you never even get to see your baby.  But isn't that one of the saddest things of all?  That you didn't get to know your child?

I know how lucky I am to have Emily.  My heart laughs and smiles every day.  I had my doubts....I always wanted children, but there was always that nagging little voice inside of me that would say, but do you really?  Do you really want the rest of your life to be dictated by rules, worry, and this bossy little slobbery stinky thing that rules your house?  But now I know, I was born to be a mom.  And I am damn good at it too.  Emily smiles when she sees me, she holds out her arms for me to pick her up, and my cuddles calm her crying.  She loves her daddy too, but she's a momma's girl, and that thrills me. 

I know there are many people who not only face loss, but then go on to not get to experience the joys of seeing the rainbow after a long, dark and stormy journey.  But not a day goes by that I don't wonder who Kayla would have been.  Kayla and Emily share many of the same facial features, but is that where their similarities would have ended?  Emily has blonde hair and her daddy's hazel eyes, would Kayla have had brown hair and my dark brown eyes?  Or maybe her grandma's red hair?  Emily is a good baby, but has a spunky side.  She'll sit back and quietly observe, but she can screech and scream and holler at you when you've done something she doesn't like.  Would Kayla have been quiet all the time?  Or maybe she would have kept us on our toes, crying and yelling 24/7?

I often drive by the elementary school where Kayla would have, and where Emily will attend her first day of kindergarten some day.  That school holds no memories for me, I didn't go there as a child and I only recently set foot inside to go vote, but driving by that school makes me feel like there is an elephant sitting on my chest, when I think of the fact that there will never be a Kayla B enrolled there.  There will never be a little boy who has a crush on Kayla.  Kayla will never be valedictorian, or prom queen; we will never know if she would have been a veteranarian or someone who rebuilds jet engines in the military.  We'll never see her walk down the aisle, and she will never give us grandchildren.  We will never see her name in print, except for on her gravestone or on other memorial items.  She never took any breaths in this world.

She wasn't sick, she wasn't missing any vital organs, she didn't have any extra chromosomes.  On or around July 26th 2013, she should have been in this world.  She should now be a giggling, happy, 18 month old, but instead she only existed inside me for 22 weeks and 2 days.  I cannot ever picture my two girls together, laughing and playing, because even if Kayla had survived, Emily couldn't be here.  That's like saying, you miss your mom?  Ok, you can have her back, but then you'll have to lose your dad.  It's like loving the two halves of my heart, but knowing my heart cannot be whole at the same time.

I know how lucky I am to have Emily, but it is such a mind fuck to be missing one of my daughters so much, but having to imagine my life without my other one had my first one lived.

"Missing you comes in waves.  Tonight I'm drowning".