I sat down at my computer tonight to work, and checked facebook first. The first post that I read, I skimmed the words "it is with heavy hearts" and I automatically knew what it was about. A friend of mine lost her baby. Another one. This is her second child to go to Heaven. She was about 15 weeks along. As if that's not horrible enough, tomorrow is the fourth anniversary of losing her first born, and of course Christmas is right around the corner.
It's so unfair. I don't know her that well. We went to high school together, I am not sure that we ever spoke back then, but she walked into the one and only evening of a support group I went to after we lost Kayla, and it was nice to see a familiar face. Since then we've been facebook friends. I like her children's pictures, relate to her posts about her son that she lost, and congratulated her on each pregnancy since. I cried for her tonight. Hearing of a pregnancy or child loss instantly resonates with me, and while no two people's pain is alike, I at least am familiar with the road they are about to embark on. So part of me cried for Kayla, as any loss is a painful reminder for me of my sweet angel. But I cried for her and the pain she is no doubt going through right now.
I had many reasons, but this was perhaps one of the biggest reasons I decided against having any more kids. I just could not go through any more heartbreak. Yes, I am missing out on the joy and love another baby would bring, but for me and where I am in my grief, the idea of the possible joy just wasn't worth the very scary and possibility of heartbreak. Emily was worth every second. I needed a child in my arms. I would have gone up against the worst odds to get her. But now that I have her, I'm done. I'm too fragile to go through that again. And this loss wasn't even related to why she lost her first son, which is the same issue I have and why I lost Kayla. Maybe I could have dealt with another pregnancy if incompetent cervix was the only thing I had to worry about....the cerclage held really well with Emily so hopefully it would have done its job again. But to know there are so many things that can go wrong, in addition to the way life already went wrong. It's maddening. I feel like any loss mom should get a free pass for any other bad thing. To be immune to anything else that can hurt you regarding your child.
Ryan and I went to see Collateral Beauty last weekend. It was good, but I did come out of the theater feeling a bit bummed. I wouldn't say the fear is paralyzing, but I definitely think about/worry about something happening to Emily every single day, and often several times a day. I am not sure how much of that is normal, every day fear that comes with the job of being a parent, and how much of it is because I've already experienced loss and I am terrified of it happening again, but this time with a little soul that I've had with me all these days, months, and years, and would absolutely die if anything happened to her. I feel like for the pain and suffering we've already been through, I wish we could get a "lifetime happiness card" guaranteeing that nothing else bad will happen concerning your children.
As I sat there, crying for her and her baby, and for myself and for Kayla, my phone was blowing up about someone's cat who is quite likely on her last few weeks of life. I get it, I love my cat, but I just couldn't right then. I couldn't hear about the trials and tribulations of a 16 year old cat who has lived a long and healthy life, that has been loved and well taken care of since she was a small kitten. I know people have a right to be sad about their dying pet, and others' worse pain doesn't negate their own, but in that moment I wanted to scream, I don't give a shit about your cat! So, obviously the anger stage is still alive and well, and not going anywhere any time soon.
Last week we took Kayla her Christmas tree, and put out a few decorations. I did ok, I didn't really cry, but I did tear up. It was bitter cold that night, and we had to clear away about a foot of snow off her grave. I hate to think that she's cold...and having to leave her in the cold, dark cemetery. I know that's stupid, it's just her body. But mothers will always worry about their babies, even in death.
Fly high baby Benjamin <3
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