Tuesday, October 25, 2011

5 years, 4 months and 22 days

From time to time, I bump into another baby lost mama on the internet in a spot not related to baby lost. Like a sewing message board. Or a forum for triplet moms. There is always an unspoken understanding. We've been in the same hellish spot at one point in our lives and so we can relate. It connects us even if we have nothing else in common.

Today, I found out that the sister of one of my "internet friends" lost her baby. She is in labor now. And as I read her message, which I had to re-read, I found myself back to June 3, 2006. The day Abbey died. The day we found out.

I was doing a bit of cleaning this past Saturday morning and as a part of that cleaning, I had located a basket in the basement office that I wanted to use in the front hall for the girls' bags. It was full of office type stuff - scrapbooking materials, notebooks, etc. As I moved the items from one basket to another, I came across a scrapbook that I had started for Abbey and then put aside, for several reasons.

When I picked up the scrapbook, pictures of me pregnant with her slid out. I shuffled through them, not recognizing myself. I was a different person then. Sure, we all change but we don't all change like this. I don't think I'll ever be that naive again.

And so while I wanted to tell my friend that her sister will be okay, I only offered my condolences and prayers because I know that's not what they want to hear in this moment. When you know that you are going to meet your baby and have to say goodbye in the same moment, the last thing you want to hear is that you will be okay. You are not ready to process that.

I remember reading an article written by a grandmother of a stillborn baby in a grief publication months after Abbey's passing. She compared grief to standing bare foot in a river of ice cold water. At first, your feet ache with numbness from the rushing water but as time passes, the ache dulls. It will always be there but will change.


pyjammy pam said...

I can't get our friend out of my mind. And i couldnt help but think it must be so hard for you to watch others go through.

Wendy said...

<3 love to both you and K

kdehart5151 said...

Sending thoughts and love your way <3

B said...

Thoughts go out to all of you tonight.

Hope's Mama said...

You're so right. I didn't want to hear you'll be ok. I did hear it plenty of times, but I didn't believe them, nor did I want to believe them. Because surely if I was ok, I'd be over her, and I didn't want that.
While I am ok now, as ok as one can be, the situation is still not ok. It will never be ok that she's dead. Not Hope. Not Abbey. Not Curtis. Not your friend's baby. Not any of them.

Angela said...

Just when I think not conceiving for the past 17 months is the worst thing ever, I remember that although I haven't been blessed with a conception yet, I have not had to suffer through a miscarriage or birthing a sleeping baby. I can't even imagine what your friend's sister is going through. :-(


Wiley said...

I don't think hearing that I would be ok would have done much in that moment, but having already stories (pretty much yours) did help when I found out my daughter had died in-utero.

It's hard to keep awareness. Stillbirth seems like one of those topics that people aren't used to hearing, but I've been surprised how many people are comfortable with it as long as they know that I am.

Digger said...

I can't even imagine how you and your friend must be feeling. Love, prayers thoughts and blessing going out to both of you.

Digger ~xoxo~