Monday, April 11, 2016

To My 7th Child...

Hi there baby.  I know I never really got to meet you.  But I think about you all of the time.  Sometimes I feel selfish about my sadness in losing you.  There are so many families that cannot have babies at all.  Some families that have to adopt.  Some families that lose babies too.  You, baby, you are so lucky.  Your daddy and I are so lucky.  You have six siblings.  Six.  They are so fantastic too.  Five brothers and a sister.  I know if you were here today you'd be light saber fighting with them, loving every macaroni and cheese dinner you could get, begging for living room sleep over nights and laughing at bed time with them (and getting yelled at for it) and being just as awesome as the rest of them are.

It's been twelve years now since we lost you.  I have to admit that at first, my feelings about it weren't what you'd expect.  I figured that maybe you were very sick and that this was the best thing for you.  I did cry but I was able to cope and understand.  Your dad cried a lot.  He was really sad but I tried to be the rock.  I took a couple of weeks off of work but then went back and tried to get back to normal.  I stayed strong and calm. I rationalized what happened to you.  I told myself that miscarriages happen and that I was lucky enough to already have two healthy children.  I wish I had given you enough credit for being what you were.

In March of 2004, I went into my doctor's office because I had had some bleeding that seemed to need attention.  I knew it was still early in the pregnancy but I had already had a doctor's visit and had heard your precious heart beating.  You were very alive.  You were in me.  You were my child.  That day though, when I thought you were about 12 weeks along, they couldn't find you anymore.  I wanted to tell the world about you but they couldn't find you.  I remember being in the doctor's office alone.  Your dad wasn't there because he had to be at work and we didn't think he had a need to worry.  I was wearing a baseball cap that day.  I saw one of the OB's assistants and she delivered the news.   She told me that she couldn't find your heart beat.  She told me that you seemed to have had stopped growing a few weeks before.  I put my head down so that the brim of my hat covered my face and I cried.  I cried for the baby I would never know.  I cried for you.

She told me that I would have to wait to "pass you".  It didn't take much longer.  With in a day or two (I can't exactly remember), I remember being in pain.  I had a lot of cramping and bleeding in the middle of the night.  I woke your daddy and we went to the hospital.  I was in a lot of pain.  They told me I had to push.  To get all of you out.  I did.  I pushed.  I cried.  I felt each cramp and pain.  Then they told me it was over.  I don't really know exactly when.  I was so very tired and so sad.  I was feeling like this experience was the most terrible thing I'd ever gone through.  Then, my doctor came in.  She told me I'd have to have a D&C in the morning, to make sure "they got it all".  It?  You?  You were a tiny human.  Living and breathing in me.  I didn't get to see you when you left my body.  I didn't know how big you were.  I didn't know what you looked like or if you were a boy or girl.  I just knew that the next morning they wanted to clean the rest of you out of me.

I felt terrible.  I wanted a baby.  I wanted you.  They brought me into a surgical room and began to give me drugs to put me to sleep.  My arms were extended out and they told me to count backwards.  I looked up and saw the lights in the OR.  Small circles getting smaller and smaller with every breath I took.  Then nothing. 

When I woke up I didn't know where I was.  It was a different room.  A darker room.  I looked around and saw green things.  Glitter and four leaf clovers.  It was St. Patrick's Day.  I was in a bed in a room by myself.  I can't even remember how I felt other than feeling very tired.  Your dad came to me and smiled.  He smiled even though he was sad.  We were both sad.

I felt like I had failed you somehow.  Like something I did caused you to leave me.  I tried to ignore it, like it was just they way the world works, but you have always stuck with me.  We think about you all of the time but especially every year on March 17th.  You are my child.  You will always be my child.  You were old enough to have a heart beat.  You were wanted.  I wish we could have known you.  You'd love your siblings.  They are so crazy.  Legos and Star Wars.  Harry Potter.  Dorks to the core.  They are so awesome.  

I don't think I've ever really said what I want to say though.  I love you.  You are my 7th child.  I wish I could take you to the zoo or snuggle with you and stroke your hair when you aren't feeling well and make you your favorite meal on your birthday.  You weren't allowed the chance for me to do that for you but I know you'll be waiting for me someday.  I know you watch over your siblings.  I know you love us just as much as we love you.  You are our angel and I will never... never ever... forget you.  Never.