Coming up to Mother's day and finding myself not fitting into that category, now being more of a mmmmmm.... OTHER is a little difficult.
So, as a way of kind of dealing with it, I decided to write a letter to bub.
Dear Baby,
This week, even though we still feel your loss deeply - we have been feeling more positive about life, and the progression of our family. My parents gave us a commemorative coin set - bought and intended as a gift for you when you were born.
A memento helps.. for you there was no funeral, no mourners apart from those who knew.
Photographs and scans are nice.. a tattoo isn't our style and I don't know how else to honour your memory.
The moment we knew you existed, we were so happy. We'd struggled until this point so when you - our one good egg - became life at first go, we were simply overjoyed. It felt like something was finally going right.
The two week wait was agonising. I sat through an audio track of some perfectly enunciated but bored sounding lady talking me though a cliche riddled meditation/nonsense willingly because I was thinking about you.
When I got the phone call (which involved a lot of phone tag, let me tell you!) confirming you were there, and developing well - and had to sit through the rest of the afternoon trying to concentrate on my work without screaming excitedly non-stop. Your daddy didn't want to hear it over the phone, so when I came home I gave him a baby nappy bag with a panda onesie in it without saying a word. He looked up at me and burst into the biggest smile, then gave us a hug.
Everyday he would kiss my belly, kissing you through me until he could do it in person.
I felt so happy that you were there, I kept talking to you like you could hear me, I would sing and amend lyrics, my hand kept straying to my belly to hold you. I looked forward to doctor's appointments and check ups because they proved you were real, and they just made me more excited to meet you.
Hearing your heartbeat was amazing, and an experience I won't soon forget. I do regret that daddy was never able to hear it.
You were going to be the best looked after baby in the world. We had everything that you could have ever needed ready to go. Except for car seats. Hadn't quite got that far yet. So, um, maybe not ready to go then but then we thought we had months with you before your first car trip.
Losing you was like losing a part of ourselves. Perhaps the hardest part besides the fact that you're not here, is not knowing why you're not here. They all tell us not to worry, it likely wasn't anything that we did or could have prevented. But we still wonder.
We don't even know your gender (although daddy is sure you were a boy) and we'll never know what you could have grown up to be. We will see you again, but it may be a while before that happens. In the meantime, we will wonder.
Know for now, that you are and always will be loved and known as the third member of our family.
We are still going to try to make a family, but we can never replace you or what you represented in our hearts.
Love forever,
Mum and Dad
So, as a way of kind of dealing with it, I decided to write a letter to bub.
Dear Baby,
This week, even though we still feel your loss deeply - we have been feeling more positive about life, and the progression of our family. My parents gave us a commemorative coin set - bought and intended as a gift for you when you were born.
A memento helps.. for you there was no funeral, no mourners apart from those who knew.
Photographs and scans are nice.. a tattoo isn't our style and I don't know how else to honour your memory.
The moment we knew you existed, we were so happy. We'd struggled until this point so when you - our one good egg - became life at first go, we were simply overjoyed. It felt like something was finally going right.
When I got the phone call (which involved a lot of phone tag, let me tell you!) confirming you were there, and developing well - and had to sit through the rest of the afternoon trying to concentrate on my work without screaming excitedly non-stop. Your daddy didn't want to hear it over the phone, so when I came home I gave him a baby nappy bag with a panda onesie in it without saying a word. He looked up at me and burst into the biggest smile, then gave us a hug.
Everyday he would kiss my belly, kissing you through me until he could do it in person.
I felt so happy that you were there, I kept talking to you like you could hear me, I would sing and amend lyrics, my hand kept straying to my belly to hold you. I looked forward to doctor's appointments and check ups because they proved you were real, and they just made me more excited to meet you.
Hearing your heartbeat was amazing, and an experience I won't soon forget. I do regret that daddy was never able to hear it.
You were going to be the best looked after baby in the world. We had everything that you could have ever needed ready to go. Except for car seats. Hadn't quite got that far yet. So, um, maybe not ready to go then but then we thought we had months with you before your first car trip.Losing you was like losing a part of ourselves. Perhaps the hardest part besides the fact that you're not here, is not knowing why you're not here. They all tell us not to worry, it likely wasn't anything that we did or could have prevented. But we still wonder.
We don't even know your gender (although daddy is sure you were a boy) and we'll never know what you could have grown up to be. We will see you again, but it may be a while before that happens. In the meantime, we will wonder.
Know for now, that you are and always will be loved and known as the third member of our family.
We are still going to try to make a family, but we can never replace you or what you represented in our hearts.
Love forever,
Mum and Dad
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