May

I see that May has snuck onto the calendar, as it has for the past five years, bringing with it promises of early summer weather and sorrow.  I never know whether to feel saddened or comforted by the fact that there are other parents out there with the same feelings.  Others watching that anniversary approach.  Others wishing for time to stand still.

I recently read a blog post by a pregnant woman who has never lost a baby.  She spoke of her connection to her unborn child and a pregnancy scare and then talked about God's way for the future, even if that future meant the death of her baby.  It didn't sit well with me.  In fact, it irked me a bit.  I've come across this many times over the past almost six years.  Those who have never been there saying how they would feel if it happened to them.  The fact is - you don't know what you would feel because it has never happened to you.

I have nothing against those whose religion helps them heal but I felt like her statements invalidated the grief of thousands of mothers.  Then there's the vibe that our babies aren't here because we don't love God enough or we did something wrong.  

This is such a difficult road to travel.

I get up every morning and I do what I need to do to live and provide for my three children here on earth.  You don't know how many times I have wanted to tell someone to eff off because the drama, politics, bull crap that they are spewing is just that - bull crap.  This isn't what life should be about.  What's really important?  My kids.  My family.  Nothing should be treated as brain surgery unless it is really brain surgery.

I didn't spend enough time holding Abbey after she was born.  I have many regrets surrounding her birth and death and this is one of them.  About a month later, I was forced to go into work.  Into an office full of people who didn't know what to say to me.  I had to fight back tears because I didn't want them to see me cry.  On the drive home, I called Rich, no longer able to hold it inside.  I wept tears of anger and frustration.  Of grief and loss.  Of regret.

I never pulled back the blanket to look at Abbey's little feet.  I'll never know what they looked liked.  That's all I could think of while sitting in my bosses' office negotiating my return to work.  How messed up is that?  My baby was gone and I had to negotiate returning to work.

I live a different life now because I can't live with regrets like that ever again.