It's after midnight, today is Kayla's 5th heavenly birthday. I thought with 5 being kind of a milestone, it would be harder this year. And I did know it was coming up of course, but even over the last few days, I hadn't really thought about it. I just can't win. Either I am sad and crying, or I am living my life and feel like a shit mom for not really thinking about her birthday as it approaches.
But then again, 5 years in heaven doesn't really have the same meanings as it would on earth. If she were alive, we would be planning her start of Kindergarten this fall, her first step as a big girl, moving toward independence away from mom and dad. But in heaven, I suppose every year is just like the last. But I did notice when it hit midnight tonight. Five years ago tonight, I was laying in the dark hospital room, alone (my husband was in the room, but asleep on the couch, haha much like he is right now), and praying so hard for my baby girl. Begging God, or fate, or mother nature or anyone who would listen to just let her stay in for a couple more weeks. I wasn't asking for term, I just wanted her to have a chance.
I wonder who she would have been. What she would have looked like by now. Even in the womb, during the 3D ultrasound, I could tell Emily looked like Kayla. When she was born I saw it right away. One night, when Emily was just a few days old, I stood beside her crib, watching her sleep, and I could have sworn I was looking at Kayla. Her name didn't even seem to fit her at first. Maybe it's because we never called her Emily until she was safe in my arms, so it was still new. But sometimes in that first week I'd look at her and think Emily, and it was like trying to call someone you'd known for years by a different name...but when I would think Kayla, it fit. It didn't take long of course, and I never considered changing it to Kayla. Within a week or so she looked like an Emily to me, but still, it kind of freaked me out.
But I wonder, if Kayla were alive today, would she look like Emily does now, or would her looks have changed as she grew? Would she have been shy or outgoing? Would she be a mama's girl like Emily is or a daddy's girl? How would our relationship with her be different than it is with Emily, if we hadn't experienced losing her? It's such a hard road to walk down. I'm thankful that much of the time I can be happy. I suspect that losing an already living child does not allow much happiness in a parents' life. The idea of losing Emily just....I just don't even know how anyone goes on living.
But having lost Kayla when we did....it's just so hard to describe. I loved her, I still do, so much. I loved her from the second that second pink line showed up. But knowing your child in the womb, while real, is so very different from knowing your child once they're born. I know Emily better than I know myself. I know what she likes, what she doesn't, I know when something is going to bother her. She's very particular and has her own set of rules, and God help you if you break one of her rules. She misses nothing. The other day I was sitting on the end of my dad's sectional, and she left the room for a few and I moved to the other end because the sun was in my eyes. I told my dad watch, she'll notice that I moved and be annoyed by it. She came back in and it took her all of three seconds to say hey, why did you sit over there?
Her beloved Minnie pillow that she carries around, she is blank on one side and has Minnie's face on the other. She refers to Minnie as if she is a living being, and if I pick her up, she'll often tell me when I am holding her "upside down". The edge that her face is on, is her feet when you flip her over to the blank side, and the other end is her head, according to Em. I bought her a new Minnie Mouse bathing suit yesterday, and to mess with her when she went potty, Ryan put the Minnie swimsuit on Minnie pillow. I told him, you've got it upside down, the neck of the swimsuit was on Minnie's feet. He looked at me like I was nuts. She came back in the room and said hey, wha? She started laughing about Minnie pillow wearing her swimsuit. Then she says hey, it's upside down, this is her head. I looked at Ryan...told you so.
I know her cries...I know when she is whining, and when she is just tired. I know when she's really hurt, or scared. I know which foods she'll likely try, and which she'll turn her nose up at without a moment's hesitation. But you never get a chance to know your angel like that, when you only carried them, but never got to know them outside of your body. I constantly feel like I need to educate people on the fact that she is my baby, my daughter whom I love and miss, and that she was not "just" a miscarriage or a lost pregnancy, and that I will never stop missing her and that I think of her every single day, all the while trying to convey the fact that I miss her and love her, but for the most part I am happy and ok. I'm sitting here on her birthday in tears, thinking about what could have been, but most days there are no tears. Most days I feel happy and ok, and I am so thankful for Emily and that she brought me back to life.
I hate that she died, and I am so angry that this happened to us, to her. I am so mad at the senselessness of it, that she died before she even got to start her life and it wasn't even because of anything wrong with her. But now, after the fact with what I know now, her living would mean Emily wouldn't be here. Emily was conceived in June, and my due date with Kayla wasn't until July 26th. Even if Kayla was born early, before the end of June but survived, I know there is still no way possible Emily would have been conceived. With a new preemie, and feeling like shit and stressed out and being postpartum, yeah, there is no way Emily could have still been conceived, there is no way for both of my daughters to be on this earth at the same time. So as much as I wish it hadn't happened in theory, there is no way I can truly wish for that because then I wouldn't have Emily. I know if Kayla had lived, and I never knew Em, I would feel the way about Kayla as I do Em. I wouldn't know what I was missing....but that's like trying to imagine going through life without an arm or a leg. It's just impossible to do.
I feel guilty when I feel content with how things worked out. How could I? Just because things turned out ok in the end, doesn't mean I didn't feel like my heart had been ripped out for all those months. And even now, even if I do not always feel the grief as intensely as I once did, I can still dissolve into tears over the unfairness of it all. Wondering and trying to make sense of it all. I feel stupid for saying I wish I were still in more pain over Kayla. But somedays I am not sure which is worse, the pain of missing her, or the guilt of being happy with Emmy.
I can't be the only one who feels this way, this push-pull of guilt and love and grief and sadness all balled into one big crying mess. But pregnancy loss isn't even talked about as much as it should be, much less the fucked up feelings 5 years later when you've had another child and you cannot seem to just be content with missing and loving your lost child, at the same time as being so in love with and thankful for your living child.
I just hope she knows how much I love her, and that I think of her every single day. Happy 5th birthday my beautiful angel <3
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