My friend hosted the 8th Annual event at German Park tonight in memory of all the lost babies for National Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness Month. I haven't gone in the past as I wasn't sure how my beliefs would conflict or compare to what everyone else's beliefs are. The different things people have said to me over the past nine years have shocked me, saddened me, belittled me. I know that "no one can make you feel anything" but some comments have also made me feel like my babies were not babies. They didn't count. I don't want to dwell on that....
Today was the first time that I publicly acknowledged my loss. Yes, I've talked about it to Doctors, a few friends, online. That is not the same. It wasn't the same. Tonight, with nine other people, I shed tears for what has been, what could have been, what should have been. I know that is a slippery slope: the coulda, woulda, shouldas....but I feel this is different. Because it was, it just is no longer...
Today I wrote on a balloon a special message. Will someone find that balloon? Perhaps. Did anyone in the group see what I wrote? Perhaps. I told two of my friends what I wrote. I will show you.
I've always thought the first baby was a boy. Simply a feeling. And dreams that I have a son that I "forgot about".
I know I will see my babies again. I know what God has planned. My heart hurts today, though. My arms feel empty. My house is missing a piece. A huge piece.
It's so bizarre to think that I would have a 4th grader right now. My baby would be nine in a couple of months. Well, hmm, with the birthday, maybe I'd have a 3rd grader. Either way.... my heart aches.
...they are all real babies.
...I am a broken woman.
...I still hurt.
...I still cry.
...that I think the first baby was a boy. That was really important to me to whisper out loud.
